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POPULAR  NOVELS 


BY 


MES,  MART  J.   HOLMES, 


TEMPEST  AND  SUNSHINE. 

ENGLISH  ORPHANS. 

HOMESTEAD  ON  HILLSIDE. 

'LENA  RIVERS. 

MEADOW  BROOK. 

DORA  DEANE. 

COUSIN  MAUDE. 

MARIAN  GREY. 

EDITH  LYLE. 

DAISY  THORNTON. 

CHATEAU  o'OR. 

QUEENIE  HETHERTON. 

BESSIE'S  FORTUNE. 

MARGUERITE. 

MRS.  HALLAM'S  COMPANION  PAUL  RALSTON. 

THE  TBACY  DIAMONDS.    (.New.) 


DARKNESS  AND  DAYLIGHT. 

HUGH  WORTHINGTON. 

CAMERON  PRIDE. 

ROSE  MATHER. 

ETHELYN'S  MISTAKE. 

MILBANK. 

EDNA  BROWNING. 

WEST  LAWN. 

MILDRED. 

FORREST  HOUSE. 

MADELINE. 

CHRISTMAS  STORIES. 

GRETCHEN. 

DR.  HATHERN'S  DAUGHTERS. 


"  Mrs.  Holmes  is  a  peculiarly  pleasant  and  fascinating 
writer.    Her  books  are  always  entertaining,  and  she 
has  the  rare  faculty  of  enlisting  the  sympathy 
and  affections  of  her  readers,  and  of  hold 
ing  their  attention  to  her  pages  with 
deep  and  absorbing  interest." 


Handsomely  bound  in  cloth.    Price,  $1.50  each, 
and  sent  free  by  mail  on  receipt  of  price, 

G. W.  Dillingham  Co.,  Publishers 

NEW  YORK. 


THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS 


BY 

MRS.   MARY   J.   HOLMES 

AUTHOR   OF 
"TEMPEST     AND     SUNSHINE,"      ""LENA     RlVERS,"     "THE 

ENGLISH  ORPHANS,"   "PAUL  RALSTON," 
"  GRETCHEN,"  ETC.,  ETC. 


NEW  YORK 

G.  W.  Dillingham  Co.,  Publishers 

MDCCCXCIX 


COPYRIGHT,  1 898,  1899, 
BY  MRS.  MARY  J.  HOLMES, 

[All  rights  reserved.] 


Tracy  Diamonds. 


"Pg 


CONTENTS. 


PART   ONE. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  The  Prospect  House 7 

II.  The  Cause  of  the  Battle        .         .         .         .15 

III.  Uncle  Zach  and  Craig  Mason      .         .         .24 

IV.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Dalton            .         .        .        .32 
V.  The  Tragedy 36 

VI.  Expected  Guests 49 

VII.  The  Tracys 57 

VIII.  Alice 67 

IX.  Waiting  for  T'other  One      ....     78 

X.  Alice  and  Jeff 83 

XI.  Alice  and  Craig 91 

XII.  A  Coquette 98 

XIII.  On  the  North  Piazza  .         .         .         .105 

XIV.  The  Diamonds 115 

XV.  The  Drive 121 

XVI.  The  Return  Home 132 

XVII.  Progress 138 

XVIII.  Browning      .         .         .         .         .         .         .144 

XIX.  What  Time  Told 157 

XX.  In  the  Haunted  House          .         .         .         .168 

XXI.  The  Denouement 180 

XXII.  What  Followed     .         .         .         _        .         .189 
XXIII.  The  Close  of  the  Season      .         .        .        .204 

[5J 


1691477 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIV.  Craig's  Visit           .         .  .  ~      ./'  .         .212 

XXV.  In  the  Red  School  House  /       .         .216 

XXVI.  The  Last  Act  of  Part  One  .222 


PART   TWO. 

I.  Fanny  and  Roy            .        ...         .  .228 

II.  Mrs.  Prescott       .         .         .        .         .  -239 

III.  Ancestry       .        .    -     .         .         .  .    246 

IV.  Inez      .                 .        .         ,        ,        ..  .   256 
V.  In  the  Yosemite            .        .         ...  .268 

VI.  At  Prospect  Cottage    ...         .  .  275 

VII.  On  the  Road  to  Clark's        ,         .         .  .290 

VIII.  Mark  Hilton      -' .         .         ...  .300 

IX.  Mark  and  Tom    .        ..         .         .        .  .  308 

X.   Inez  and  Her  Father            .        .        -.  .314 

XL  Mark  and  Helen           .        ...        ..  .320 

XII.  Fanny  and  Inez             .         .         ,         .  .  330 

XIII.  The  Sisters 337 

XIV.  Roy      .         .        ;.        ,-       .         .%       ^  .  343 
XV.  At  the  Last           .        .        ....  .356 

XVI.  Mark  and  Tom     .         .        .                  .  .363 

XVII.  InRidgefield        .        ...         .  .370 

XVIII.  Dotty's  Funeral    .        .        .         ,        .  .    376 

XIX.  Odds  and  Ends    ._.,..         .  .  383 


THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 


PART  I  AND  PROLOGUE. 
CHAPTER  I. 

THE    PROSPECT    HOUSE. 

THE  time  was  a  hot  July  morning,  with  the  ther 
mometer  at  85  in  the  shade,  and  rising.  Not  a  leaf  was 
stirring,  and  the  air  seemed  to  quiver  with  the  heat  of 
midsummer.  The  fog,  which,  early  in  the  day,  had  hung 
over  the  meadows  and  the  river,  had  lifted,  and  was 
floating  upward  in  feathery  wreaths  towards  a  misty 
cloud  in  which  it  would  soon  be  absorbed.  Even  the 
robins,  of  which  there  were  many  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
Prospect  House,  felt  the  effects  of  the  weather  and  sat 
lazily  upon  the  fence  or  the  branches  of  the  trees  in 
which  their  nests  were  hidden.  Only  the  English  spar 
rows  showed  signs  of  life,  twittering  in  and  out  of  the 
thick  ivy  which  covered  the  walls  of  what  had  once  been 
a  church,  and  was  now  used  for  public  offices.  It  was 
a  morning  in  which  to  keep  quiet  and  cool  if  possible. 
"The  hottest  on  record,"  Uncle  Zach  Taylor,  the  pro 
prietor  of  the  Prospect  House,  said,  as  he  examined  the 
thermometer  and  wondered  "What  on  earth  Dot  was 

[7] 


8  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

thinking  of  to  raise  Cain  generally  in  such  weather." 
The  house  was  in  a  state  of  upheaval,  and  looked  as  if 
the  annual  cleaning  was  about  to  commence  on  a  gigan 
tic  scale.  In  the  back  yard  carpets  were  being  beaten  by 
two  men,  with  the  perspiration  rolling  down  their  faces, 
on  the  south  and  west  piazzas  furniture  of  every  descript- 
tion  was  standing, — bureaus  and  washstands,  tables, 
chairs  and  couches,  with  two  or  i:hree  old-time  pictures  in 
old-time  frames.  One  was  a  representation  of  the  famous 
Boston  Tea  Party.  The  Dartmouth,  Elinor  and  Beaver 
were  in  close  proximity  to  each  other,  their  decks  swarm 
ing  with  Indians  breaking  open  chests  and  shovelling 
tea  into  the  water.  The  others  were  family  portraits,  evi 
dently  husband  and  wife — she,  small  and  straight  and 
prim,  in  a  high  crowned  cap  with  a  wide  frill  shading 
her  face — he,  large  and  tall,  with  a  black  stock,  which 
nearly  touched  his  ears,  and  his  forefingers  joined  to 
gether  and  pointing  in  a  straight  line  at  the  right  knee, 
which  was  elevated  above  the  left.  "A  kind  of  abandoned 
position,"  Uncle  Zach  was  accustomed  to  say  to  his 
guests  when  calling  their  attention  to  this  portrait  of  his 
wife's  great-grandfather,  who  assisted  at  the  Tea  Party, 
and  gave,  it  was  said,  the  most  blood-curdling  whoop 
which  was  heard  on  that  memorable  night.  A  blue 
cross  on  the  figure  of  a  man  on  the  deck  of  the  Dart-< 
mouth  indicated  which  Zacheus  had  decided  was  his 
wife's  ancestor. 

He  was  very  proud  of  the  pictures.  "Wouldn't  take 
fifty  dollars  for  em.  No,  sir, — and  I  don't  believe  I'd 
take  a  hundred.  Offer  it,  and  see,"  he  frequently  said. 
But  no  one  had  offered  it,  and  they  still  hung  in  their 
respective  places  in  the  best  room  of  the  hotel  except 
when,  as  was  the  case  this  morning,  they  were  brought 


THE   PROSPECT   HOUSE.  9 

out  and  placed  at  a  safe  distance  from  the  scene  of 
confusion  around  them. 

There  were  brooms  and  mops  and  scrubbing  brushes 
and  pails  and  the  smell  of  soap  suds  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
wing  at  the  west  end  of  the  hotel,  where  the  fiercest 
battle  was  raging.  Four  women,  with  their  sleeves  rolled 
up  and  towels  on  their  heads,  were  making  a  terrible 
onslaught  on  something,  no  one  could  tell  what,  for 
there  was  neither  dust  nor  dirt  to  be  seen. 

"But,  Lord  land,  it's  Dot's  way  to  scrub,  and  you  can 
no  more  stop  her  than  you  can  the  wind.  She's  great 
on  cleaning  house,  Dot  is,  and  you  can't  control  wim- 
men,  so  I  let  'em  slide,"  Uncle  Zach  said  to  a  young 
man  whom,  after  his  examination  of  the  thermometer, 
he  found  on  the  north  piazza.,  fanning  himself  with  a 
newspaper  and  occasionally  sipping  lemonade  through 
a  straw  and  trying  to  get  interested  in  Browning's 
Sordello.  After  reading  a  page  or  two  and  failing  to 
catch  the  meaning,  he  closed  the  book  and  welcomed 
Uncle  Zach  with  a  smile  as  he  sank  panting  into  a  rock 
ing  chair  much  too  large  for  him,  for  he  was  as  small 
of  stature  as  the  Zacheus  for  whom  he  was  named,  and 
whose  clothes  he  might  have  worn  had  they  been  handed 
down  to  so  late  a  date  as  the  igth  century.  "This  I 
call  comfortable,  and  somethin'  like  it.  How  be  you 
feelin'  to-day?  You  don't  look  quite  as  pimpin  as  you 
did  two  weeks  ago,  when  you  come  here/'  he  said  to 
the  young  man,  who  replied  that  he  didn't  feel  pimpin 
at  all, — that  the  air  was  doing  him  good,  and  in  a  short 
time  he  hoped  to  be  as  well  as  ever. 

Had  you  looked  on  the  hotel  register  you  would  have 
seen  the  name,  Craig  Mason,  Boston,  and  above  it  that 
of  Mrs.  Henry  Mason,  his  mother.  Craig  had  never  been 
very  strong,  and  during  his  college  course  at  Yale,  had 


IO  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

applied  himself  so  closely  to  study  that  his  health  had 
suffered  from  it,  and  soon  after  he  was  graduated  he  had 
come  to  Ridgefield,  hoping  much  from  the  pure  air  and 
quiet  he  would  find  there.  Nor  could  he  have  found  a 
more  favorable  spot  for  nerves  unstrung  and  a  tired 
brain. 

Just  where  Ridgefield  is  does  not  matter.  There  is 
such  a  place,  and  it  lies  on  the  Boston  and  Albany  Rail 
road,  which  keeps  it  in  touch  with  the  world  outside  and 
saves  it  from  stagnation.  It  is  a  typical  New  England 
town,  full  of  rocks  and  hills  and  leafy  woods,  through 
which  pleasant  roads  lead  off  and  up  to  isolated  farm 
houses,  some  of  them  a  hundred  years  old  and  more,  and 
all  with  slanting  roofs,  big  chimneys  and  low  ceilings 
and  little  panes  of  glass. 

These  are  the  houses  from  which  the  young  generation, 
tired  of  the  barren  soil  and  hard  labor  which  yields  so 
little  in  return,  emigrates  to  broader  fields  of  action  and 
a  more  stirring  life,  but  to  which  the  father  and  the 
mother,  to  whom  every  tree  and  shrub  is  dear,  because 
identified  with  their  early  married  life,  cling  with  a  te 
nacity  which  only  death  can  sever. 

A  river  has  its  rise  somewhere  among  the  hills, 
and  there  are  little  ponds  or  lakes  where  in  summer 
the  white  lilies  grow  in  great  profusion,  and  where  in 
winter  the  girls  and  boys  skate  on  moonlight  nights,  and 
men  cut  great  blocks  of  ice  for  the  Prospect  House, 
which  in  July  and  August  attracts  many  city  people  to 
its  cool,  roomy  quarters.  The  house  was  built  before 
the  railroad  was  thought  of,  and  in  the  days  when 
stages  plied  between  Boston  and  Albany  and  made  it 
their  stopping  place  for  refreshments  and  change  of 
horses.  It  was  called  a  tavern  when  Zacheus  Taylor 
brought  his  wife  Dorothy  there  and  became  its  owner. 


THE   PROSPECT   HOUSE.  II 

"Taylor's  Tavern"  he  christened  it,  and  that  name  was 
on  the  creaking  black  sign  in  large  white  letters,  and 
the  little  man  always  rubbed  his  hands  together  with 
pride  when  he  looked  at  it  and  remembered  that  he  was 
the  Taylor  whose  name  could  be  distinctly  seen  at  a  dis 
tance  as  you  came  up  the  street  either  from  the  east  or 
the  west.  "A  kind  of  beacon  light,"  he  used  to  say,  "tell- 
in'  the  played  out  traveler  that  there  is  rest  for  the  weary 
at  Taylor's  tavern." 

It  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  see  him  greet  his  guests 
with  the  cheery  words,  "Glad  to  see  you.  How  are  you? 
All  fired  tired,  I  know.  Walk  right  in  to  the  settin' 
room.  Dotty  has  got  dinner  most  ready.  Dotty  is  my 
wife,  and  I  am  Mr.  Taylor,"  with  a  nod  towards  the 
spot  where  Taylor's  Tavern  swung.  But  if  he  were 
the  Taylor,  Dorothy  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  the 
Tavern, — the  man  of  the  house,  who  had  managed  every 
thing  from  the  time  she  took  possession  of  her  new  home 
and  began  to  understand  that  a  clearer  head  was  needed 
than  the  one  on  her  husband's  shoulders  if  they  were 
to  succeed.  Her  head  was  clear,  and  her  hands  willing, 
and  Taylor's  Tavern  became  famous  for  its  good  table, 
its  clean  beds  and  general  air  of  homely  hospitality.  As 
years  went  by  a  few  city  people  began  to  ask  for  board 
during  the  summer,  and  with  their  advent  matters 
changed  a  little.  There  were  finer  linen  and  china  and 
the  extravagance  of  a  dozen  solid  silver  forks  to  be  used 
only  for  the  city  boarders,  and,  when  they  were  gone,  to 
be  wrapped  in  tissue  paper  and  put  carefully  away  in  a 
piece  of  old  shawl  on  a  shelf  in  a  closet  opening  from 
Mrs.  Taylor's  sleeping  room.  Uncle  Zacheus  submit 
ted  to  the  silver  forks  and  china  and  linen,  but  when, 
as  his  wife  grew  more  ambitious,  she  told  him  that 
"Taylor's  Tavern"  was  quite  too  old  fashioned  a  name 


12  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

for  their  establishment,  and  suggested  changing  it  to 
"Prospect  House,"  he  resisted  quite  stoutly  for  him. 
The  change  would  necessitate  a  new  sign,  and  'Tay 
lor's  Tavern"  would  disappear  from  sight.  It  was  in 
vain  that  he  protested,  saying  it  would  be  like  putting 
away  a  part  of  himself.  Dorothy  was  firm  and  carried 
her  point,  as  she  usually  did.  The  sign  was  taken  down 
and  the  sign  post,  too,  for  the  new  name  was  to  be  over 
the  principal  entrance  to  the  house,  as  it  was  in  cities. 
The  sign  post  Zacheus  had  carried  to  the  barn  and 
put  up  in  a  loft  as  a  family  relic  and  reminder  of  other 
days.  The  signboard  with  "Taylor's  Tavern"  upon  it 
was  laid  reverently  away  in  the  garret  in  a  big  hair 
trunk  which  had  belonged  to  his  mother  and  held  a  few 
things  which  no  one  but  himself  often  saw,  for  Dolly  did 
not  interfere  with  the  trunk.  Carefully  wrapped  in  a  pock 
et  handkerchief  was  a  baby's  white  blanket,  and  pinned 
on  it  was  a  piece  of  paper  with  "Johnny's  Blanket" 
written  upon  it.  Johnny  was  a  little  boy  who  died  when 
only  three  days  old  and  his  father  had  taken  the  blanket 
and  put  it  away  in  the  trunk  with  some  articles  sacred 
to  boyhood,  such  as  a  pair  of  broken  skates,  a  woolen 
cap,  a  cornstalk  fiddle,  withered  and  dried,  but  kept  for 
the  sake  of  the  brother  who  made  it  and  who  had  sailed 
away  to  Calcutta  as  cabin  boy  in  a  ship  which  was  lost 
with  all  on  board.  Giving  up  the  sign  was  harder  than 
any  one  suspected,  and  when  he  felt  more  than  usually 
snubbed  he  would  go  up  to  the  hair  trunk  and  look  at 
it  with  affection  and  regret  and  as  nearly  as  he  was 
capable  of  it  with  a  feeling  that  it  embodied  all  the 
real  manhood  he  had  known  since  his  marriage  and 
with  its  disappearance  his  identification  with  the  place 
had  disappeared,  leaving  him  a  figure-head  known  a§ 
Uncle  Zach,  or  Mrs.  Taylor's  husband, 


THE   PROSPECT   HOUSE.  13 

She  was  never  really  unkind  to  him.  She  merely  ig 
nored  his  opinions,  and  brought  him  up  rather  sharp 
at  times  when  he  displeased  her.  Henpecked  him,  the 
neighbors  said,  while  he,  called  it  "running  her  own 
canoe." 

"Not  very  hefty,"  was  the  most  she  ever  said  of  him 
to  any  one,  and  whether  she  meant  mentally,  or  phys 
ically,  or  both,  she  did  not  explain.  "Shiftless  as  the 
rot,  with  no  more  judgment  or  git  up  than  a  child," 
was  the  worst  she  ever  said  to  him,  and  he  accepted  her 
opinion  as  infallible  and  worshipped  her  as  few  women 
are  worshipped  by  the  man  they  hold  in  leading  strings. 
She  had  been  his  Dot,  or  Dotty,  when  she  was  Dorothy 
Phelps  and  measured  only  half  a  yard  round  her  waist, 
and  he  called  her  Dot  still  when  she  weighed  two  hundred 
and  could  throw  him  across  the  street.  What  she  did 
was  right,  and  after  the  burial  of  "Taylor's  Tavern"  in 
the  hair  trunk  he  seldom  objected  to  what  she  suggested, 
and  when  she  told  him  she  was  going  to  improve  and 
enlarge  the  house  and  make  it  into  something  worthy  of 
its  name,  he  told  her  to  go  ahead,  and  bore  without  any 
outward  protest  the  discomfort  of  six  weeks'  repairing, 
when  carpenters  and  masons,  plumbers  and  painters, 
transformed  the  old  tavern  into  a  comparatively  modern 
structure  of  which  Mrs.  Taylor  was  very  proud. 

"I  can  advertise  now  with  a  good  stomach,"  she 
said,  and  every  spring  there  appeared  in  the  Boston 
papers  and  Worcester  Spy  and  Springfield  Republican, 
a  notice  setting  forth  the  good  qualities  of  the  Prospect 
House  and  laying  great  stress  upon  its  rooms  and  views. 
If  the  advertisement  was  to  be  believed,  every  woman 
could  have  a  large  corner  room,  with  the  finest  view 
in  all  New  England. 

To  some  extent  this  was  true;  not  all  could  have  cor- 


14  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

ner  rooms,  but  all  could  have  splendid  views.  If  you 
faced  the  north  you  looked  out  upon  what  farmers  call 
a  mowing  lot,  where  early  in  the  summer  the  grass  grew 
Iresh  and  green,  with  here  and  there  a  sprinkling  of 
cowslips,  and  later  on  lay  on  the  ground  in  great  swaths 
of  newly  mown  hay,  filling  the  air  with  a  delicious  per 
fume.  Beyond  were  sunny  pasture  lands  and  wooded 
hills,  and  in  the  distance  the  church  spires  of  North 
Ridgefield,  with  the  smoke  of  its  manufactories  rising 
above  the  tree  tops.  If  your  room  faced  the  east  you 
looked  up  a  long  broad  street,  lined  on  either  side  with 
old-time  houses,  whose  brass  knockers  and  Corinthian 
Pillars  told  of  a  past  aristocracy  before  the  steam  engine 
thundered  through  the  town  and  the  whistle  of  a  big 
shoe  shop  on  a  side  street  woke  its  employees  at  six 
o'clock  and  called  them  to  work  at  seven.  Here,  nearly 
touching  each  other  across  the  street,  are  gigantic  elms, 
which  tradition  says  were  planted  on  the  day  when  news 
of  the  Declaration  of  Independence  reached  the  patriotic 
town  of  Ridgefield.  Liberty  elms  they  are  called,  and  they 
stretch  along  for  nearly  a  mile  from  east  to  west2  and, 
making  a  detour,  spread  their  long  branches  protect'.ngly 
across  the  Mall  which  leads  into  the  Common.  To  the 
south  is  the  railroad  and  the  Chicopee  winding  its  way 
through  green  meadows  to  a  larger  river  which  will 
take  it  to  the  Sound  and  thence  to  the  sea  whose  waters 
bathe  another  continent.  If  your  room  was  at  the  west 
you  looked  at  your  right  on  grassy  hills,  dotted  with 
low  roofed  houses  and  on  pastures  where  spoonwood  and 
huckleberries  grow.  At  your  left  the  headstones  of  the 
cemetery  gleam  white  among  the  evergreens  and  tell 
where  Ridgefield's  dead  are  sleeping,  the  tall  monu 
ments  keeping  guard  over  the  gentry  of  brass  knocker 
and  Corinthian  pillar  memory,  and  the  less  pretentious 


THE   CAUSE   OF   THE   BATTLE.  1 5 

stones  marking  the  last  resting  place  of  the  middle  class, 
the  bourgeois, — for  Ridgefield  draws  the  line  pretty 
close,  and  blue  blood  counts  for  more  than  money.  Near 
the  willows  and  close  to  a  wall  so  wide  that  the  children 
walk  upon  it  as  they  go  to  and  from  school  are  the 
old  graves,  whose  dark,  century  stained  stones  have 
17 —  upon  them  and  are  often  visited  by  lovers  of  an 
tiquity.  Some  of  those  who  sleep  there  must  have  heard 
the  guns  of  the  Revolution  and  helped  to  plant  the  Liber 
ty  Elms  which  keep  guard  over  them  like  watchful  sen 
tinels.  The  Ridgefield  people  are  very  proud  of  their 
old  graves  and  their  cemetery  generally,  especially  the 
granite  arch  at  the  entrance  with  the  words  upon  it : 

"UNTIL  THE  MORNING  BREAKS  AND  THE 
SHADOWS  FLEE  AWAY." 

This  arch,  with  its  background  of  marble  and  ever 
greens,  is  a  prominent  feature  in  the  view  from  the  west 
rooms  of  the  Prospect  House,  and  it  was  in  these  rooms 
that  the  battle  of  brooms  and  mops  and  soap  suds  was 
raging  so  fiercely  on  the  hot  July  morning  when  our 
story  opens. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  BATTLE. 

MRS.  TAYLOR'S  advertisements  had  paid  her  well,  bring 
ing  every  summer  a  few  guests  from  Boston  and  its  sub 
urbs,  but  New  York  had  not  responded,  and  until  it  did 
Dorothy's  ambition  would  not  be  satisfied.  Boston  repre 
sented  a  great  deal  that  was  desirable,  but  New  York 
represented  more, 


l6  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"Why  don't  you  advertise  in  the  New  York  papers?" 
Mark  Hilton,  the  head  clerk  and  real  head  of  the  house 
after  herself,  said  to  her,  with  the  result  that  he  was 
authorized  to  write  an  advertisement  and  have  it  inserted 
in  as  many  New  York  papers  as  he  thought  best. 

Three  days  later  there  appeared  in  several  dailies  a 
notice  which  would  have  startled  Mrs.  Taylor  if  she  had 
seen  it  before  it  left  Mark's  hands.  It  did  throw  Zacheus 
off  his  base  when  he  at  last  read  it  in  the  New  York 
Times. 

"Wall,  I'll  be  dumbed,"  he  exclaimed,  setting  his  spec 
tacles  more  squarely  on  his  nose  and  running  his  eyes 
rapidly  over  the  article.  "Yes,  I'll  be  dumbed  if  this  don't 
beat  all  for  a  whopper.  I  shouldn't  s'pose  Dotty  would 
have  writ  it,  and  she  a  church  member!  Mebby  she 
didn't.  Here,  Dot, — Dorothy,  come  here." 

She  came  and  listened  wide  eyed  while  her  husband 
read  and  commented  as  he  read.  The  scenery  of  Ridge- 
field  was  described  in  glowing  terms.  "Hills  and  valleys 
for  pleasant  drives,  two  ponds  and  a  river  for  sailing, 
rowing  and  fishing;  many  points  of  interest,  such  as 
haunted  houses,  and  the  like." 

"That's  all  so,"  Zacheus  said,  "except  the  'haunted 
houses.'  There  ain't  but  one,  and  that's  about  played 
out.  Queer  thing  to  put  in  a  paper ;  but  listen  to  the  rest 
of  the  lockrum,"  and  he  proceeded  to  read  a  description 
of  the  house,  which  was  nearly  as  fine  as  if  a  Vanderbilt 
had  planned  it.  The  cuisine  was  first  mentioned  as  un 
surpassed,  and  superintended  by  the  lady  of  the  house. 
"That's  you,  Dot,"  and  Zacheus  nodded  toward  her. 
"That's  you,  but  what  the  old  Harry  is  that  cu-i-sine  you 
superintend  ?" 

Dot  didn't  know,  and  her  husband  went  on  to  the 
rooms,  which  were  palatial  in  size,  handsomely  furnished, 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  BATTLE.          I? 

— hot  and  cold  water, — with  intimations  of  suites  of 
apartments,  each  connected  with  a  private  bathroom  and 
balcony.  It  didn't  say  so  in  so  many  words,  but  the  idea 
was  there  and  Uncle  Zach  saw  it  and  disclaimed  against 
it  as  false.  "Hot  and  cold  water,"  he  said.  "That's 
great;  only  two  fassets,  and  them  in  the  hall  under  the 
stairs  near  the  dinin'  room  where  it's  handy  for  the 
teamsters  to  wash  up  before  goin'  to  dinner;  and  what's 
them  suits  of  rooms,  I'd  like  to  know,  with  baths  and 
things?  It's  a  fraud;  only  one  bathroom  in  the  house 
and  that  always  out  of  gear  and  wantin'  plummin', — and 
I've  a  good  mind  to  write  to  the  Times  and  tell  'em 
so.  You  didn't  have  nothin'  to  do  with  this,  Dotty,  did 
you?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  glancing  at  Mark  Hilton,  who  sat 
in  the  office  listening  to  the  tirade  and  shaking  with 
laughter. 

"I  wrote  it,"  he  said  at  last,  "and  it  is  quite  as  true  as 
most  of  the  ad's  you  see,  and  those  rooms  in  the  upper 
hall  which  open  together  are  suites,  if  you  choose  to  call 
them  so." 

"Sweets!  Who  said  anything  about  sweets?  The 
paper  called  'em  suits,"  the  excited  man  rejoined,  while 
Mark  explained  the  sweets  and  cu-i-sine  which  had  puz 
zled  Zacheus  more  than  the  suits. 

"I  wanted  something  to  attract  New  Yorkers,"  Mark 
said,  "and  perhaps  I  did  romance  a  little,  but  once  get 
them  here  they'll  be  all  right/' 

Partially  satisfied  with  this  explanation,  but  wondering 
why  he  should  have  mentioned  the  haunted  house,  with 
which,  in  a  way,  he  was  connected,  and  glad  Dotty  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  fraud,  as  he  persisted  in  calling 
the  advertisement,  Zach  gave  up  his  idea  of  writing  to  the 
Times,  and  with  his  wife  began  to  look  for  any  result 


18  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

the  advertisement  might  have.  It  came  sooner  than  they 
anticipated  in  a  letter  from  Mrs.  Freeman  Tracy  of  New 
York,  whose  grandfather,  Gen.  Allen,  had  lived  behind 
the  largest  brass  knocker  and  Corinthian  columns  in 
town  and  was  lying  under  the  tallest  monument  in  Ridge- 
field  cemetery.  She  had  seen  the  advertisement,  she 
wrote,  and  as  she  had,  when  a  child,  spent  a  few  weeks 
with  her  grandfather,  she  had  a  most  delightful  recol 
lection  of  the  town  and  wished  to  revisit  it.  She  would 
like  a  suite  of  rooms  with  bath  adjoining  for  herself  and 
daughter, — a  smaller  room  near  for  her  maid,  and  her 
meals  served  in  her  private  parlor.  She  had  just  re 
turned  from  abroad,  and  called  it  a  salon,  which  puzzled 
Mrs.  Taylor  a  little,  until  enlightened  by  Mrs.  Mason, 
her  Boston  boarder,  who,  with  her  son  Craig,  was  eon- 
tent  with  a  table  in  the  dining  room.  To  be  served  in 
a  salon  was  a  new  departure  and  if  anything  could  have 
raised  Mrs.  Freeman  Tracy  in  Mrs.  Taylor's  estimation, 
the  salon  would  have  done  it.  This,  however,  was  scarcely 
possible.  The  granddaughter  of  General  Allen  was  a 
guest  to  be  proud  of  without  a  salon,  and  Mrs.  Taylor 
was  thrown  into  a  state  of  great  excitement  and  Mark 
Hilton  was  told  to  write  to  the  lady  that  she  could  be 
accommodated. 

Here  Uncle  Zacheus  interposed,  saying  he  should  write 
himself,  and  he  did  write  a  most  wonderful  letter!  He 
would  be  glad  to  see  Mrs.  Tracy,  he  said,  and  would 
give  her  the  best  the  house  afforded.  That  notice  in  the 
paper  overshot  the  mark  some,  but  was  none  of  his 
doings,  nor  Dotty's  either.  Dotty  was  his  wife.  It  was 
all  true  about  the  river  and  ponds  and  meadows  and 
hills  and  views,  but  there  wasn't  but  one  haunted  house 
as  he  knew  of  and  that  was  tumblin'  down.  There  was 
a  good  many  places  of  interest,  like  old  graves  if  she 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  BATTLE.         IQ 

hankered  after  'em,  and  an  old  suller  hole  where  a  gar 
rison  once  stood,  and  as  to  the  tavern,  it  was  as  good  as 
they  made  'em, — clean  sheets,  all  the  towels  she  wanted, 
spring  beds,  hair  mattrasses,  feathers  if  she'd  rather  have 
'em,  silver  forks,  too ;  none  of  your  plated  kind,  and  bread 
that  would  melt  in  her  mouth.  Dotty  did  all  the  cookin' 
and  washed  her  hands  every  time  she  turned  round.  The 
rooms  was  large  and  furnished  comfortable,  with  a 
rockin'  chair  in  every  one,  and  when  they  wanted  to  ride 
out  in  style  he  had  two  bloods,  Paul  and  Virginny, 
which  couldn't  be  beat.  But  them  elegancies  the  paper 
spoke  on  was  all  in  your  eye.  There  was  only  two  fassets 
of  hot  and  cold  water,  and  the  hot  didn't  always  work. 
There  wasn't  any  sweets,  such  as  he  guessed  she  meant, 
but  there  was  some  rooms  openin'  together  and  jinin' 
the  bath  room,  which  she  could  have,  and  she  could  eat 
her  victuals  by  herself  if  she  wanted  to.  He  told  her 
he  knew  her  grandfather  well, — had  watched  with  him 
when  he  was  sick, — sat  up  with  him  after  he  died,  and 
did  a  good  many  things  at  the  funeral.  Signing  himself, 
"Yours  to  command,  Zacheus  Taylor;"  he  handed  the 
letter  to  his  wife  for  her  approval. 

She  didn't  approve  at  all,  but  for  once  her  husband 
asserted  himself  and  said  it  should  go,  and  it  went. 

"We've  heard  the  last  from  Mrs.  Tracy  we  ever  shall," 
Mrs.  Taylor  said,  but  she  was  mistaken.  Within  three 
clays  there  came  a  dainty  little  note  written  by  Miss 
Helen  Tracy,  the  daughter,  and  directed  to  "Zacheus 
Taylor  Esq.,  Prospect  House,  Ridgefield,  Mass.,"  and 
was  as  follows : 

"Dear  Sir  :— 

"Your  kind  letter  is  received,  and  I  hasten  to  write  for 
mother  and  say  that  we  shall  be  glad  to  become  your 


2o  -        THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

guests.  I  know  we  shall  be  pleased,  whether  there  are 
two  faucets  in  your  house,  or  ten, — one  bathroom  or 
twenty, — and  you  may  expect  us  on  Thursday,  the  • — th 
day  of  the  month. 

Yours  truly, 

Helen  Tracy." 

Not  in  years  had  Uncle  Zacheus  been  as  pleased  as 
he  was  with  that  note.  It  was  his  own,  which  he  could 
open  himself  and  keep.  He  usually  went  for  tlie  mail 
which  he  took  unopened  to  Dorothy,  although  it  might 
be  addressed  to  the  "Proprietor  of  the  Prospect  House." 
No  one  wrote  to  him;  he  was  a  cypher  in  the  manage 
ment  of  affairs  and  the  correspondence  of  tV.e  house. 
But  this  note  was  directed  to  him  personally.  He  was 
"Zacheus  Taylor,  Esq.,"  and  "Dear  Sir,"  and  it  made  him 
feel  several  inches  taller  than  his  real  height.  He  read 
it  on  his  way  home  from  the  office,  and  then  gave  it  to 
his  wife  with  a  flourish,  saying  exultingly,  "I  told  you 
honesty  was  the  best  policy.  They  are  coming  without 
hot  and  cold  f assets  and  bath  tubs  in  every  room.  Read 
that." 

Dorothy  read  it  while  her  husband  watched  her,  hold 
ing  the  envelope  in  his  hand  and  taking  the  note  trom 
her  the  moment  she  had  finished  it.  It  was  his  property, 
and  after  showing  it  to  Mark  and  giving  his  opinion  of 
Miss  Helen  Tracy  as  "a  gal  with  a  head  on  her/'  he  went 
up  to  the  garret  and  deposited  his  treasure  in  the  square 
trunk  with  Taylor's  Tavern  and  Johnny's  blanket  and 
went  down  with  a  feeling  of  importance  and  dignity 
which  showed  itself  in  his  going  fishing  after  dinner 
without  a  word  to  his  wife. 

She  was  in  a  state  of  unusual  excitement.  She  had 
heard  of  the  Tracys  as  people  who  made  a  great  show 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  BATTLE.         21 

at  Saratoga  and  other  watering  places  and  had  never 
dreamed  they  would  honor  her.  But  they  were  coming, 
and  her  voice  rang  like  a  clarion  through  the  house  as 
she  issued  her  orders  and  began  to  look  over  her  linen 
and  rub  up  her  silver  forks  not  in  use.  Four  of  them 
had  been  appropriated  to  the  Masons.  Four  more  were 
to  be  given  to  the  Tracys, — possibly  five, — as  they  were 
to  have  their  meals  in  private,  and  paid  handsomely  for 
it.  Finally,  as  the  honor  grew  upon  her,  she  decided  that 
the  whole  eight  were  none  too  many  for  New  Yorkers. 
They  would  look  well  upon  the  table,  and  she  could 
hide  them  away  at  night  from  any  possible  thief.  The 
rooms  Airs.  Tracy  was  to  ha.ve  adjoining  the  bathroom 
were  occupied  when  her  daughter's  letter  was  received, 
and  were  not  vacated  until  the  morning  of  the  day  when 
she  was  to  arrive.  Consequently,  there  was  not  much 
time  for  preparations.  But  Mrs.  Taylor  was  equal  to 
the  emergency  and  took  the  helm  herself  and  gave  her 
commands  like  a  brigadier  general,  first  to  her  maids, 
then  to  the  carpet-beaters,  and  then  to  a  small,  fair- 
haired  boy  whom  she  called  Jeff,  and  who  ran  for  dusters 
and  brooms  and  brushes,  showing  a  most  wonderful 
agility  in  jumping  over  pails  and  chairs  and  whatever 
else  was  in  his  way,  and  further  exercising  himself  by 
turning  summersaults  when  there  was  sufficient  space 
among  the  pieces  of  furniture  crowding  the  piazza.  A 
box  on  his  ears  from  a  maid  in  whose  stomach  he  had 
planted  his  bare  feet  brought  him  to  an  upright  position, 
and  he  stood  whirling  on  one  foot  and  asking  what  he 
should  fly  at  next. 

Mrs.  Taylor,  who  was  mounted  on  a  stepladder  and 
passing  her  hand  over  the  top  of  a  window  to  see  if  any 
dust  had  been  left  there,  bade  him  go  up  town  after 


22  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

Mr.  Taylor,  who  had  been  sent  for  a  bottle  of  ammonia 
more  than  an  hour  ago. 

"I  don't  see  where  under  the  sun  and  moon  he  can  be," 
she  was  saying,  when  "I'll  be  dumbed !"  fell  on  her  ear 
and  she  knew  the  delinquent  had  arrived. 

"I'll  be  dumbed"  was  his  favorite  expression,  which 
he  used  on  all  occasions.  It  was  not  a  swear,  he  said, 
when  his  wife  remonstrated  with  him  for  using  lan 
guage  unbecoming  a  church  member.  It  was  not  spelled 
with  an  "a,"  and  it  only  meant  that  he  could  not  find 
suitable  words  with  which  to  express  himself  when  he 
must  say  something. 

When  he  left  for  the  ammonia  he  knew  a  cleaning  up 
was  in  progress,  but  he  had  no  idea  it  would  assume  so 
vast  proportions,  until  he  found  the  piazza,  blockaded 
with  furniture  and  his  wife  on  a  stepladder  arrayed  in 
her  regimentals,  which  meant  business,  and  which  for 
length  might  almost  have  satisfied  a  ballet  dancer. 

"Come  down,  Dotty;  come  down.  You've  no  idea 
how  you  look  up  there  so  high  in  that  short  gown.  Shall 
I  help  you?  I've  brought  you  a  telegraph,"  he  said,  and 
his  wife  came  down  quickly,  while  he  explained  that  he 
had  stopped  to  talk  with  Deacon  Hewett,  and  it  was 
lucky  he  did,  for  he  was  on  hand  to  get  the  telegraph 
the  minute  it  was  ticked  off.  He  met  the  boy  as  he  was 
leaving  the  office. 

Mrs.  Taylor  took  the  telegram  from  him  and  read: 
"New  York,  July  15.  To  Zacheus  Taylor,  Esq.,  Prospect 
House,  Ridgefield,  Mass. :  My  niece  is  coming  with  me. 
Please  have  a  room  prepared  for  her  and  meet  us  at  the 
8  train  instead  of  the  4. — Mrs.  Freeman  Tracy." 

"If  this  don't  beat  all.  Another  room  to  clean.  I'm 
about  melted  now,"  and  Mrs.  Taylor  sank  into  a  chair 
and  wiped  her  face  with  her  apron.  "Where's  Zach?" 


THE  CAUSE  OF  THE  BATTLE,         £3 

she  continued.  "I  want  him  to  help  move  them  things 
out  of  the  northwest  room,  so  we  can  tackle  that  next. 
Where  is  he,  I  wonder.  Find  him,  Jeff." 

Zach  had  disappeared.  Mrs.  Tracy's  telegram,  ad 
dressed  to  Zacheus  Taylor,  Esq.,  was  of  nearly  as  much 
importance  as  her  daughter's  note  had  been,  and  a  sec 
ond  pilgrimage  was  made  to  the  garret  and  square  trunk 
where  Taylor's  Tavern  and  Johnny's  blanket  were  hid 
den  away. 

"It  kinder  seems  as  if  I  was  of  some  account  to  have 
them  Tracys  so  respectful  and  callin'  me  'Squire  twice," 
he  thought,  and  he  went  down  stairs  with  a  pleasureable 
sensation  of  dignity  not  common  with  him. 

"Miss  Taylor  wants  you,"  the  irrepressible  Jeff  said, 
rolling  round  the  corner  on  his  head  and  hands  like  a 
hoop,  and  nearly  upsetting  Zacheus  as  he  landed  on 
his  feet. 

"What  is  it,  Dotty ;  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  It's  most 
too  hot  to  do  much,"  Zacheus  asked  his  wife,  and  in  his 
voice  there  was  something  which  made  her  glance  cu 
riously  at  him. 

She  had  intended  to  "blow  him  up"  for  never  being 
around  when  he  was  needed,  but  she  changed  her  mind 
and  replied :  "I  did  want  you  to  help  move  the  bureau 
and  things  from  the  northwest  room,  but  Jeff  will  an 
swer  as  well.  You  look  hot.  Go  and  rest  yourself  on 
the  north  piazza,  with  Mr.  Mason." 

The  tone  of  her  voice  was  nearly  as  exhilarating  as 
Zacheus  Taylor,  Esq.  had  been,  for  it  was  not  often  that 
she  spoke  to  him  so  considerately  when  on  the  war  path, 
and  it  was  with  a  feeling  of  great  satisfaction  that  he 
took  his  way  to  Craig  Mason  and  the  north  piazza. 


24  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

CHAPTER  III. 

UNCLE  ZACH  AND  CRAIG  MASON.  ^ 

CRAIG  MASON  was  feeling  tired  and  wondering  how 
he  was  to  pass  the  hot  morning  with  no  one  to  talk  to  and 
nowhere  to  go  and  nothing  to  see  if  he  went  there.  His 
mother  was  spending  the  day  at  East  Ridgefield,  and,  as 
most  of  the  boarders  in  the  house  were  men  who  had 
their  business  to  attend  to,  he  was  rather  lonely  and  some 
times  wished  he  had  chosen  a  gayer  place  than  Ridgefield, 
where  there  was  some  excitement  and  now  and  then  a 
girl  to  amuse  himself  with.  Not  that  he  cared  particu 
larly  for  girls  as  a  whole.  They  were  mostly  a  frivolous 
lot,  fond  of  dress  and  fashion  and  flirting,  and  caring 
nothing  for  anything  solid,  like  Browning.  But  they  were 
better  than  nothing  when  one  was  bored.  In  college  he 
had  devoted  himself  to  his  studies  and  seldom  attended 
the  social  gatherings  where  he  would  "have  been  warmly 
welcomed  and  lionized,  for  his  family  was  one  of  the  best 
in  Boston,  and  he  had  about  him  an  air  of  refinement  and 
culture  which  would  have  won  favor  without  the  prestige 
of  family  and  wealth.  The  students  called  him  proud  and 
the  young  ladies  cold  and  cynical.  They  did  not  interest 
him  particularly,  and,  as  he  was  not  strong  enough  to  join 
in  the  athletic  sports  of  his  companions,  he  kept  mostly 
to  himself  in  his  handsome  rooms  and  took  his  exercise 
behind  his  fleet  horse,  the  only  real  extravagance  in  which 
he  indulged.  He  had  wanted  to  bring  Dido  to  Ridgefield, 
but  had  been  dissuaded  by  his  mother,  who  said  there 
were  probably  plenty  of  horses  to  be  had, — that  it  might 
look  airy  and  she  hated  anything  like  ostentation.  So 
Dido  was  left  at  home  and  Craig  had  tried  some  of  the 


UNCLE   ZACH   AND   CRAIG   MASON.  25 

stable  horses  and  found  them  lacking.  He  had  visited  the 
library  and  the  big  shoe  shop  and  had  seen  the  crowd  of 
girls  and  boys  pour  out  of  it  at  twelve  and  six  o'clock, 
and  wondered  how  he  should  like  to  be  one  of  them,  shut 
up  in  a  close,  smelly  place  for  hours  in  company  with 
Tom,  Dick  and  Harry  and  their  sisters.  The  last  would 
have  hurt  him  the  most,  for  although  courteous  to  every 
one,  he  was  fastidious  with  regard  to  his  associates  and 
shrank  from  contact  with  anything  common  and  vulgar, 
especially  if  there  was  pretension  with  it.  Uncle  Zach 
was  ignorant  and  common,  but  he  was  genuine,  and  Craig 
had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  him.  They  had  driven  together 
a  few  times  in  what  Uncle  Zacheus  said  was  the  finest 
turnout  in  town,  with  his  two  blooded  horses,  Paul  and 
Virginia. 

"You've  got  to  keep  a  sharp  lookout  or  they'll  take  the 
bits  in  their  teeth  and  run  away  with  you,"  he  said  to 
Craig,  who  had  expressed  a  wish  to  drive.  "Mebby  I'd 
better  take  the  lines.  Them  white  hands  don't  look  strong 
enough  to  hold  such  bloods  as  Paul  and  Virginny." 

Craig  thought  he  could  manage  them,  and  wondered 
what  Uncle  Zach  would  say  to  Dido  if  he  could  once  see 
her  carry  herself  up  hill  and  down  with  no  sign  of  fatigue 
or  need  of  a  whip,  while  these  plugs,  as  he  men 
tally  designated  Uncle  Zach's  bloods,  had  to  be  urged 
after  the  second  long  hill  and  stopped  of  their  own 
accord  to  rest  after  the  third,  while  at  the  fourth  Uncle 
Zach  suggested  that  they  get  out  and  walk  ''to 
rest  the  critters."  Craig  took  no  more  drives  after 
Uncle  Zach's  blooded  horses,  but  he  went  rowing 
with  him  on  the  river  once  or  twice  and  always  treated 
him  with  a  deference  which  was  not  lost  on  the  little 
man. 

"He's  a  gentleman,  every  inch  of  him,"  Mr.  Taylor 


26  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS.  ^ 

often  said  of  him,  and  nothing  could  have  pleased  him 
better  than  his  wife's  permission  to  join  him  on  the  north 
piazza. 

Craig  was  glad  to  see  him.  He  had  given  up  Brown 
ing  for  the  time  being, — had  nearly  finished  his  lemonade, 
and  was  quite  ready  for  a  chat  with  his  loquacious  land 
lord,  who,  after  inveighing  against  the  propensity  of 
women  to  clean  house  when  there  was  nothing  to  clean, 
and  inquiring  after  Craig's  health  and  declaring  himself 
comfortable  two  or  three  times,  commenced  a  eulogy  on 
Ridgefield. 

"The  greatest  town  in  the  county,  with  the  finest  views 
and  most  notorious  people  and  places.  See  that  hill  over 
there?"  he  asked,  pointing  to  the  west.  "Wall,  there's  the 
suller  hole  where  the  Injuns  pushed  their  wagons  of  blaz- 
in'  hemp,  and  the  garrison  would  have  been  burnt  to  the 
ground  and  the  people  scalped,  if  the  Lord  hadn't  done  a 
miracle  and  sent  a  thunder  shower  in  the  nick  of  time. 
One  of  Dot's  ancestors  was  there  shut  up,  so  it's  true. 
Dot's  great  on  ancestory;  goes  back  to  the  flood,  I  do 
b'lieve.  She's  got  the  door  latch  of  that  old  house.  I'll 
show  it  to  you  if  you  don't  b'lieve  it.  Yes,  'twas  a  miracle, 
that  shower,  like  the  sun  standin'  still  in  one  of  our  battles, 
I  don't  remember  which.  In  the  Revolution,  wa'n't  it, 
when  Washington  licked  the  British  ?" 

Craig  smiled  and  answered  that  he  believed  it  was  in 
the  old  testament  times  when  Joshua  was  the  general. 

"Good  land,  I  or'to  know  that,  though  I  ain't  up  in 
scripter  as  I  should  be,  seein'  I'm  a  member  in  good 
standin',  though  I  hain't  always  been,"  Uncle  Zach  re 
plied,  and  continued:  "You  know  the  meetm'  house 
across  the  street, — the  Methodis',  I  mean, — not  the  'Pis- 
copal,  where  you  go." 

Craig  said  he  knew  it,  and  Uncle  Zach  went  on :    "I 


UNCLE  ZACH  AND   CRAIG   MASON.  2? 

belong  there;  so  does  Dotty.  We  joined  the  same  day. 
Dot  has  stuck,  but  I've  backslid  two  or  three  times.  I 
repented  bitterly,  for  I  mean  to  be  a  good  man,  but  I'll  be 
dumbed  if  it  ain't  hard  work  for  a  feller  to  keep  in  the 
straight  and  narrer  way  and  run  a  tavern." 

Craig  thought  the  share  Uncle  Zach  had  in  running  the 
tavern  was  hardly  a  sufficient  excuse  for  backsliding,  but 
he  made  no  comment,  and  Uncle  Zach  went  on :  "I  was 
goin'  to  tell  you  about  some  of  the  noted  folks, — moved 
away  now, — but  always  had  Ridgefield  for  their  native 
town.  There's  that  Woman's  Rights  and  Temperance 
Woman,  Miss  Waters.  Everybody  has  heard  of  her  from 
Dan  to  Beersheby.  Good  woman,  too, — and  lectures 
smart  about  women's  votin'.  I'd  as  soon  they  would  as 
not.  B'lieve  the  country'd  be  better  off  if  they  did,  but  I 
don't  want  'em  to  wear  trouses.  Miss  Waters  did  a  spell, 
— then  left  'em  off,  and  I'm  glad  on't.  Dot  b'lieves 
everything  she  does  is  gospel,  and  I  wouldn't  like  to  have 
Dot  wear  my  trouses,  s'posin'  she  could  get  into  'em.  A 
man  or'to  hold  on  to  them,  if  nothin'  more.  Then  there's 
another  woman, — writes  books,  piles  on  'em,  the  papers 
say,  and  if  you  b'lieve  it  some  folks  who  came  here  are 
that  foolish  that  they  have  my  bloods,  Paul  and  Virginny, 
and  go  over  to  see  where  she  was  born.  An  old  yaller 
house,  with  a  big  popple  tree  at  the  corner.  No  great  of 
a  place  to  be  born  in,  or  go  to  see,  but  you  can't  calcilate 
what  city  folks'll  do.  I  knew  her  when  she  was  knee 
high  and  wore  a  sun  bonnet  hanging  down  her  back,  with 
the  strings  chawed  into  a  hard  knot.  Knew  her  folks, 
too.  She's  a  lot  of  'em  down  in  the  cemetery.  Good 
honest  stock,  all  of  'em,  and  belonged  to  the  Orthodox 
church ;  but  you  can't  make  me  b'lieve  she  wrote  all  them 
books  the  papers  say.  No,  sir." 

"You  mean  sold,"  Craig  suggested,  and  Uncle  Zach 


2g  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

replied :  "Mabby  I  do,  but  it  amounts  to  the  same  thing. 
If  they  are  sold  they  are  wrote,  and  nobody  ever  wrote  so 
many.  No,  sir.  I'll  bet  I  never  read  twenty  books  in 
my  life,  includin'  the  Bible.  Hello,  Mark,  what  is  it? 
Does  Dot  want  me  ?"  and  he  turned  to  his  clerk,  who  came 
round  the  corner  with  a  paper  in  his  hand. 

Mark  Hilton,  who  had  been  in  Mr.  Taylor's  employ 
for  three  years,  was  tall  and  straight,  with  finely  cut 
features  and  eyes  which  saw  everything  in  you,  around 
you  and  beyond  you.  Watchful  eyes,  which  seemed 
always  on  the  alert,  and  which  might  have  belonged  to  a 
detective.  Out  of  a  hundred  men,  he  would  have  been 
selected  as  the  most  distinguished  looking  and  the  one 
who  bore  himself  with  the  air  of  one  born  to  the  purple 
rather  than  to  the  position  of  clerk  in  a  country  hotel. 
Nothing  could  be  pleasanter  or  more  magnetic  than  his 
smile  and  voice  and  manner.  Craig  had  felt  drawn  to 
him  at  once,  and,  finding  him  intelligent  and  well  edu 
cated,  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  him  during  the  short  time 
he  had  been  at  the  Prospect  House.  Uncle  Zach  adored 
him  and  treated  him  with  a  consideration  not  common  be 
tween  employer  and  employee.  Pushing  a  chair  towards 
him,  he  said:  "Set  down  a  spell  and  rest.  It's  all  fired 
hot  in  that  office  with  the  east  sun  blazin'  inter  the 
winder." 

Mark  declined  the  chair  with  thanks,  and  passing  the 
paper  to  Mr.  Taylor  said :  "Peterson  is  here  again  with 
the  subscription  for  the  fence  on  the  south  side  of  the 
cemetery.  I  have  been  to  Mrs.  Taylor,  who  is  too  busy 
to  see  to  it,  and  she  sent  me  to  you,  saying  you  must  use 
your  judgment  and  give  what  you  think  best." 

It  was  so  seldom  that  Zacheus  had  the  privilege  of 
using  his  own  judgment  that  he  sprang  up  like  a  boy,  and, 
taking  the  paper  from  Mark's  hand,  read  aloud,. "Thomas 


UNCLE  ZACH  AND  CRAIG  MASON.  29 

Walker,  ten  dollars.  Pretty  fair  for  him.  Miss  Wilson, 
five  dollars.  Wall,  I'll  be  dumbed  if  she's  hurt  herself 
with  all  her  money.  Why,  the  Widder  Wilson  could  buy 
out  Tom  Walker  fifty  times,  but  she's  tight  as  me  bark  of 
c,  tree.  William  Hewitt,  five  dollars.  Hello,  he's  come 
round,  has  he?  When  thev  fust  asked  him  to  give 
towards  the  fence,  he  said,  No.  It  was  good  enough  as 
'twas.  Nobody  outside  the  yard  ever  wanted  to  git  in, 
and  nobody  inside  could  git  out  if  he  wanted  to.  Pretty 
good,  wa'n't  it?  I  guess  I'll  give  ten  dollars.  I  can 
afford  it  as  well  as  Tom  Walker.  Widder  Wilson,  only 
five  dollars.  I'll  be  dumbed !" 

He  wrote  his  name  with  ten  dollars  against  it  and  gave 
the  paper  to  Mark,  who,  with  a  nod  and  smile  for  Craig, 
returned  to  the  office,  while  Zacheus  resumed  his  chair. 

"Maybe  ten  dollars  is  more'n  Dot'll  think  I  or'to  have 
giv,"  he  said,  "but  I  have  a  hankerin'  after  that  cemetery. 
Johnny  is  buried  there,  you  know." 

"Who  is  Johnny?"  Craig  asked,  struck  with  the  pathos 
in  Mr.  Taylor's  voice  and  the  inexpressibly  sad  expression 
of  his  face. 

Working  hard  to  keep  his  tears  back,  he  replied: 
"Johnny  was  our  little  boy  who  died  when  he  was  three 
days  and  two  hours  old,  and  with  him  died  the  best  part  of 
me.  I'd  lotted  so  much  on  what  we'd  do  as  he  grew  up. 
He'd  been  three-and-twenty  if  he'd  lived,  a  young  man 
like  you,  but  I  allus  think  of  him  as  a  little  shaver  be- 
ginnin'  to  walk  and  me  a  leadin'  him,  and  many's  the  time 
I've  thought  I  heard  his  little  feet  and  have  put  my  hand 
down,  so — and  taken  his'n  in  mine, — a  soft  baby  hand, — • 
and  called  him  sonny, — and  I — I— 

Here  he  stopped,  while  the  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks, 
and  Craig  felt  his  own  eyes  grow  moist  with  sympathy 
for  this  child  man,  who,  after  a  moment,  recovered  him- 


30  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

self  and  continued:  "You  must  excuse  my  cryin'.  I 
can't  help  it  when  I  think  of  Johnny  and  all  he'd  of  been 
to  me  if  he  hadn't  died.  I  tell  you  what,  I  b'lieve  I'd  been 
a  good  deal  more  of  a  man  if  he'd  of  lived." 

Craig  had  no  doubt  of  it,  and  was  trying  to  think  of 
something  to  say  when  their  attention  was  attracted  to 
Mark  Hilton,  who  was  walking  up  the  street. 

"Look  at  him,"  Mr.  Taylor  said.  "Don't  he  carry  him 
self  like  a  king!  Sometimes  I  think  Johnny  might  have 
looked  like  him,  only  not  so  well,  maybe,  and  I  don't 
b'lieve  he  would  have  been  better  to  me  than  Mark.  Do 
you  b'lieve  in  hereditary  ? — b'lieve  that  bad  blood  trickles 
along  down  from  mother  to  son,  and  son  to  mother,  and 
busts  out  somewhere  when  you  least  expect  it?" 

"Yes,"  Craig  said,  "I  believe  in  heredity  and  environ 
ment,  too." 

"Envyrimen?  What's  that?"  Uncle  Zach  asked,  and 
Craig  replied:  "As  connected  with  heredity,  it  means 
surroundings, — education, — influence, — circumstances." 

"Jest  so,"  Uncle  Zach  interrupted.  "You  mean  the 
way  one  is  brung  up  will  offset  bad  blood.  Mebby,  but  I 
don't  b'lieve  in  hereditary.  No,  sir !  There's  Mark  now, 
— the  best  and  honestest  feller  that  was  ever  born, — right 
every  way.  His  great-grandmother  was  hung,  with  three 
more  men,  and  my  grandmother  went  to  the  hangin', 
more's  the  pity, — but  there  warn't  so  many  excitin'  things 
in  them  days  as  there  is  now,  with  a  circus  and  caravan 
every  summer,  and  a  hangin'  was  a  godsend,  especially 
as  there  was  a  woman  in  it, — a  high-stepper,  too.  You 
see  'twas  this  way:  You  know  about  the  haunted  house 
half  a  mile  from  town,  a  little  off  the  main  road  at  the  end 
of  the  lane  ?" 

Craig  had  passed  the  house  two  or  three  times  on  his 
way  to  the  woods  beyond,  and  had  looked -curiously  at 


UNCLE  ZACH  AND  CRAIG  MASON.        3! 

its  grey,  weather-beaten  walls  and  slanting  roof,  from 
which  the  shingles  had  fallen  in  places.  Once  he  went 
close  to  it  and  looked  through  a  window,  from  which 
every  pane  of  glass  was  gone,  into  a  large,  square  room, 
with  a  big  fire-place  in  it,  and  had  wondered  if  it  were 
there  the  young  wife  had  sat  that  stormy  night  and  heard 
her  name  called,  while  outside  in  the  darkness  the  awful 
tragedy  was  enacted.  From  the  wide  hearth  some  bricks 
were  loosened,  and,  while  he  stood  there,  a  monstrous  rat 
leaped  out,  and,  followed  by  three  or  four  smaller  rats, 
went  scurrying  across  the  floor,  the  patter  of  their  feet, 
as  they  disappeared  behind  the  wainscoting  and  jumped 
into  the  cellar  below,  making  a  weird  kind  of  sound  which 
timid  people  might  mistake  for  something  supernatural. 
Craig  himself  had  experienced  a  creepy  kind  of  feeling 
as  he  left  the  old  ruin  and  went  next  to  look  into  the 
well,  which  had  been  a  part  of  the  tragedy.  An  old 
bucket  was  still  swinging  on  a  pole  after  the  fashion  of 
years  ago,  and  he  let  it  down  into  the  deep  well  and  drew 
it  up  full  of  water,  which  he  fancied  had  a  reddish  tinge 
of  blood.  Hastily  pouring  it  back,  he  heard  it  fall  with  a 
splash  into  the  depth  below,  and  hurried  from  the  place. 
He  had  not  been  near  the  house  since,  and  had  never 
heard  the  full  particulars  of  the  story,  which,  now  that 
Mark  was  connected  with  it,  had  an  added  interest,  and 
he  asked  Uncle  Zach  to  tell  it. 

Getting  out  of  his  chair,  Mr.  Taylor  walked  briskly 
across  the  piazza.,  saying,  "It's  very  excitin'  and  harrerin' 
in  some  places,  and  I  must  get  braced  up  before  I  tackl« 
it."  After  a  few  turns,  he  declared  himself  sufficiently 
braced,  and,  resuming  his  seat,  began  a  story  which  I 
heard  in  my  childhood,  and  which  in  many  of  its  details 
is  true. 


32  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

CHAPTER   IV. 

MR.   AND   MRS.    DALTON. 

"You  see,  'twas  this  way,  and  it  happened  nigh  on  to 
eighty  or  a  hundred  years  ago.  This  tarvern  wasn't  built 
then.  T'other  one  that  was  burnt  stood  further  up  the 
street  and  was  kep'  by — I  can't  think  of  his  name,  but 
he  was  one  of  Dot's  ancestors.  Beats  all  what  a  lot  she 
has,  and  what  a  sight  she  thinks  of  'em.  Got  'em  all  in 
a  book,  somewhere;  the  one  in  the  portrait  who  helped 
throw  over  the  tea, — and  the  one  who  pushed  the 
carts  of  hemp  against  the  garrison.  I've  turned  him 
wrong  side  up,  I  guess,  but  you  know  who  I  mean.  She 
has  him,  door  latch  and  all, — and  the  one  who  kep'  the 
tarvern  when  Mr.  Dalton, — Mark's  great-grandfather, — 
brought  his  bride  to  town.  She  was  handsome  as  a  picter, 
they  say, — with  yaller  curls  down  her  back  and  blue  eyes 
which  looked  as  innocent  as  a  baby's.  She  was  proud  as 
Lucifer;  wasn't  willin'  to  associate  with  any  but  the  high 
bloods;  walked  as  if  the  ground  wasn't  good  enough  for 
her  to  step  on  with  her  little  morocco  shoes.  Dressed  up 
in  the  mornin'  as  much  as  some  do  in  the  afternoon.  But 
then  she'd  nothin'  to  do,  for  she  had  a  hired  girl,  Mari, 
who  waited  on  her  as  if  she  was  a  queen.  Had  a  pianner, 
— the  fust  there  was  in  town,  and  folks  used  to  go  up  the 
lane  and  set  on  the  wall  to  hear  her  play  Money  Musk 
and  Irish  Washwoman  and  Bonaparte's  March,  and  some 
new  things  they  didn't  like  so  well. 

"Mr.  Dalton  was  a  first-rate  man,  fine  looking  and  a 
perfect  gentleman.  Mark  must  be  like  him,  and  mebby 
that's  where  your  hereditary  comes  in.  Everybody  liked 
Mr.  Dalton,  and  he  had  a  kind  word  for  everybody.  He 


MR.   AND   MRS.   DALTON.  33 

was  rich  for  them  days,  and  had  some  interest  in  the 
stages  that  run  between  Boston  and  Albany.  The  rail 
road  wasn't  here  then.  'Twas  all  stages,  three  a  day 
each  way,  and  they  stopped  at  the  tarvern  to  change 
horses.  Them  was  lively  times,  and  Dot's  ancestor  made 
money  hand  over  fist.  Mr.  Dalton  paternized  him  a  good 
deal.  He  used  to  go  off  in  the  stages  sometimes  and  be 
gone  a  few  days,  but  when  he  was  to  home  he  had  nothin' 
to  do  and  sat  on  the  tarvern  piazza,  a  sight  talkin'  sociable 
with  Dot's  ancestor,  smokin'  and  takin'  a  drink  now  and 
then  and  treatin'  the  other  fellers.  Everybody  took  a 
drink  them  days.  W.  C.  T.  U.  wasn't  born.  Dot's  one  of 
'em, — true  blue,  too.  Don't  keep  it  in  her  cupboard  for 
little  private  nips  and  then  go  a  crusadin'  as  some  of  'em 
do.  She  hates  it  like  p'isen,  and  if  Johnny  had  lived  she'd 
had  him  sign  the  pledge  before  he  could  walk.  She'd  no 
more  let  me  sell  toddy  than  she'd  put  her  head  in  the 
oven.  She's  right,  too.  I  shouldn't  of  backslid  the  last 
time  if  I  hadn't  took  some  black  strap  and  molasses  for  a 
cold.  I  like  the  stuff,  and  only  Dot  and  the  thought  of 
little  Johnny  keeps  me  from  drinkin'.  But  to  return  to 
my  story. 

"I  guess  you'll  think  I'm  goin'  'round  Robin  Hood's 
barn  to  git  to  it.  Mr.  Dalton  worshipped  his  wife,  and 
she  'peared  to  worship  him,  till  there  come  up  from  Bos 
ton  a  dark  complected  man,  a  friend  of  the  Dalton's, — St. 
John,  they  called  him,  and  he  was  there  half  the  time 
talkin'  to  Miss  Dalton  and  playin'  the  flute  while  she 
banged  the  pianner.  The  rest  of  the  time  he  sat  on  the  pi 
azza  at  the  tavern  smokin',  takin'  drinks  oftener  than  Mr. 
Dalton,  but  never  treatin'  nobody.  Mr.  Dalton  thought 
a  sight  of  him.  They  was  college  chums, — Harvard,  I 
b'lieve, — and  when  he  went  off  on  the  stage  he'd  ask  him 
to  sleep  in  his  house  and  see  to  Miss  Dalton,  who  was 


34  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

timid, — the  more  fool  he.  And  he  did  see  to  Miss  Dalton, 
and  drove  with  her  and  walked  with  her  clear  up  to  Korth 
Ridgefield,  and  didn't  get  back  till  after  dark.  Folks 
began  to  talk  and  the  women  pumped  Mari,  who  wouldn't 
say  nothin',  she  was  so  bound  up  in  Miss  Dalton. 

"After  a  spell  another  feller  appeared,  St.  John's  vally 
they  called  him,  and  he  brushed  his  clothes  and  blacked 
his  boots,  and  walked  behind  him  in  the  street,  and  went 
a  good  deal  to  the  Dalton's, — sparkin'  Mari,  folks  said, 
and  I  guess  that  was  so.  Wall,  after  a  spell  another  chap 
appeared, — brother  to  the  vally,  they  pretended.  He 
didn't  go  to  the  Dalton's,  but  sat  on  the  piazza,  and  smoked 
and  drank  and  swore  about  big  bugs  ridin'  over  the  poor, 
and  was  an  ugly  lookin'  cuss  generally.  Mr.  Dalton  was 
real  good  to  him, — gave  him  money  once  or  twice  and 
tried  to  git  him  work.  But  he  didn't  want  to  work.  It 
warn't  that  he'd  come  for. 

"Wall,  as  I  was  sayin',  things  went  on  this  way  with 
St.  John  and  his  vally  and  his  vally's  brother  comin'  and 
goin',  till  folks  was  talkin'  pretty  loud  and  sayin'  Dalton 
or'to  be  told,  and  finally  Dot's  ancestor, — the  one  who 
kep'  the  tavern, — up  and  told  Mr.  Dalton  careful  like 
what  folks  was  surmisin',  and  hinted  that  St.  John 
shouldn't  go  there  so  much.  Mr.  Dalton  threw  back  his 
head  and  laughed  the  way  Mark  has  when  he  don't  be 
lieve  a  thing. 

"St.  John  was  his  best  friend;  he'd  known  him  since 
he  was  a  boy,  he  said,  and  his  wife  was  a  second  pen — 
penny — something ' 

"Penelope,"  Craig  suggested. 

"I  b'lieve  that's  the  name;  sounds  like  it,  though  who 
she  was  I  don't  know,"  Uncle  Zacheus  replied,  and  con 
tinued  :  "The  next  day  what  did  Mr.  Dalton  do  but  go  to 
Worcester  in  the  stage  and  buy  her  a  silk  gown  that  would 


MR.   AND   MRS.   DALTON.  35 

stan'  alone,  and  a  string  of  gold  beads.  Dot's  ancestor's 
wife's  sister,  or  aunt,  I  don't  remember  which,  made  the 
gown,  and  Miss  Dalton  wore  it  and  the  beads  and  a  new 
bunnet  to  meetin'  the  next  Sunday,  lockin'  arms  with  her 
husband  all  the  way,  and  lookin'  up  in  his  face  lovin'  like 
with  her  great  pretty  blue  eyes  which  had  something  queer 
in  'em,  rollin'  round  as  if  watchin'  for  somethin'.  I'll  be 
dumbed  if  Mark  hain't  the  same  trick  with  his  eyes,  and 
that's  all  the  hereditary  he  has  from  that  jade.  She'd  heard 
what  folks  was  sayin',  but  was  jest  as  sweet  and  innocent 
as  a  lamb,  and  sent  some  flowers  to  Dot's  ancestor's  wife, 
who  had  said  the  most  about  her. 

''Wall,  I  don't  git  on  very  fast,  do  I?  but,  as  I  was 
sayin',  time  went  on,  and  it  was  summer  again,  and  folks 
had  kinder  forgot.  St.  John  wa'n't  in  town,  nor  hadn't 
been  that  anybody  knew,  unhss  it  was  Mari,  who  kep'  a 
close  mouth.  The  vally  wasn't  in  town,  nor  the  vally's 
brother, — no  more  his  brother  than  you  are.  That  came 
out  on  the  trial. 

"Wall,  there  was  an  awful  thunder  shower  one  night, — • 
struck  the  Unitarian  Church  and  knocked  the  steeple  into 
splinters,  and  rained  till  the  gutters  run  like  a  river,  and 
you  could  almost  go  in  a  boat  the  street  was  so  full  of 
\vater.  Mr.  Dalton  was  at  the  tarvern  when  the  storm 
came  up,  and  waited  for  it  to  stop.  It  was  dark  as  pitch, 
and  they  tried  their  best  not  to  have  him  go  home.  But 
go  he  would.  His  wife  w--mld  be  anxious  and  not  sleep 
a  wink,  he  said,  and  aboi  t  eleven  o'clock,  when  it  had 
nearly  stopped  raining,  he  started  with  a  lantern,  and  that 
was  the  last  he  was  ever  s<;en  alive. 

"I'm  gettin'  to  the  p'int,  and  I  shall  have  to  take  a  turn 
or  two  more,  for  it  is  very  affectin'  as  you  go  on." 

He  took  a  turn  or  two,  and  returned  to  his  chair,  say 
ing,  "I  guess  now  I  can  st  an'  it  to  tell  you  the  rest." 


36  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   TRAGEDY. 

"NEXT  mornin',  about  <iight  o'clock,  Mari  come  to  the 
tarvern  to  know  where  Mr.  Dalton  was,  that  he  didn't 
come  home. 

"  'He  did  go  home/  say.}  Dot's  ancestor. 

"  'He  didn't  come  home,'  says  Mari,  'and  Miss  Dalton 
is  dreadfully  worried  for  fear  he's  sick.  Never  slep'  a 
wink,  and  kep'  a  candle  burnin'  all  night.' 

"I  don't  know  what  put  it  into  his  head  to  think  some- 
thin'  was  wrong,  but  he  did, — Dot's  ancestor,  I  mean, 
and  why  the  plague  can't  I  think  of  his  name !  I  know  it 
as  well  as  I  do  my  own.  Here,  Jeff,  you  rascal,  come 
here,"  he  called,  as  the  boy  Cc'me  leaping  across  the  end  of 
the  piazza  like  a  young  deer.  "Go  and  ask  Miss  Taylor 
the  name  of  her  ancestor  who  kep'  the  tavern  when  Mr. 
Dalton  was  killed." 

Jeff  disappeared  with  a  bound  and  summersault,  while 
his  master  continued:  "Queer  boy  that,  but  smart  as  a 
steel  trap.  He's  descended  from  Mari,  who  lived  with 
Miss  Dalton.  A  good  boy,  but  queer  motioned, — never 
stands  still.  Jumps  round  like  a  grasshopper, — turns 
summersets,  one  after  another,  till  it  makes  you  dizzy  to 
see  him.  Reads  all  the  trash  he  can  git  hold  of  about 
pirates  and  Injuns  runnin'  through  the  bushes.  Told  the 
parson,  when  he  asked  him  what  he  was  goin'  to  be  when 
he  grew  up,  that  he  s'posed  he  or'to  be  a  minister,  but  he'd 
rather  be  a  robber.  Dot  thrashed  him  for  that  and  shut 
him  up  in  the  back  chamber  without  his  supper.  But, 
my  land,  he  was  out  in  no  time.  Clum'  out  of  the  winder, 
— slid  down  the  lightnin'  rod  and  went  rollin'  off  like  a 


THE   TRAGEDY.  37 

hoop  on  the  grass.  Here  he  comes.  What  did  she  say, 
Jeff?" 

"She  said  his  name  was  Joel  Butterfield,  and  she  didn't 
see  what  you  was  borin'  Mr.  Mason  with  that  story  for," 
was  Jeff's  reply,  as  he  went  hippy-te-hopping  away. 

"Be  I  borin'  you?"  Uncle  Zacheus  asked,  and  Craig  re 
plied :  "Not  in  the  least.  I'm  greatly  interested,  and  shall 
be  more  so  when  you  get  to  the  pith  of  the  matter.  Pray, 
go  on.  Mari  had  come  to  ask  why  Mr.  Dalton  didn't 
come  home,  and  Mr.  Butterfield,  your  wife's  ancestor, 
suspected  something  wrong.  That's  where  you  left  off." 

"Jess  so;  Joel  Butterfield;  funny  I  couldn't  remember 
his  name.  I  did  think  of  cheese.  Wall,  he  was  wonderful 
for  smellin'  a  rat,  jess  like  Dot;  she's  allus  smellin'  things 
when  there's  nothin'  to  smell.  Says  he, — that's  Joel,  I 
mean, — says  he  to  Mari,  says  he,  'Was  anybody  to  your 
house  last  night?'  First  she  said  there  wasn't;  then  she 
said  there  was,  but  she  didn't  see  'em.  'Twas  Monday, 
washin'  day,  and  Miss  Dalton's  washin's  was  big;  allus 
wore  white  gowns  in  the  summer.  Had  two  in  the  wash 
that  day,  and  four  white  skirts,  and  Mari  was  tired  and 
went  to  bed  early  and  dropped  asleep  at  once.  Bimeby 
she  waked  up  and  heard  a  man's  voice  speakin'  to  Miss 
Dalton,  low  like.  Thinkin'  it  was  Mr.  Dalton,  she  went  to 
sleep  agin,  and  didn't  wake  till  mornin',  but  had  bad 
dreams,  as  of  a  scuffle  of  some  kind.  When  she  asked 
Miss  Dalton  who  was  talkin'  if  'twasn't  Mr.  Dalton,  Miss 
Dalton  said  'twas  a  stranger  who  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Dal 
ton.  She  didn't  know  his  name,  but  sent  him  to  the 
tarvern,  where  she  s'posed  her  husband  was,  sayin'  he 
was  to  tell  him  to  come  right  home,  for  she  was  afraid  in 
the  storm.  This  looked  queer,  and  Joel  and  the  bartender 
started  post  haste  for  the  Dalton  House. 

"It  was  a  beautiful  mornin',  but  it  had  rained  so  hard 


38  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

the  night  afore  that  the  road  in  the  lane  was  soft  as  putty, 
and  they  see  plain  the  mark  of  wheels  and  horses'  feet 
which  went  up  to  the  house,  turned  round,  went  out  of 
the  lane  and  off  toward  East  Ridgefield.  Joel  noticed 
it  and  p'inted  it  out  to  the  bartender,  whose  name  I  don't 
know,  and  it  don't  matter, — he  was  no  kin  to  Dot.  They 
went  into  the  house, — Joel  and  the  bartender, — and 
found  Miss  Dalton  fresh  as  a  pink  in  a  white  gown,  with 
a  blue  ribbon  round  her  waist  and  a  rose  stuck  in  it,  and 
she  a  workin'  a  sampler.  Know  what  that  is?" 

Craig  confessed  his  ignorance,  and  Uncle  Zach  ex 
plained:  "They  used  to  work  'em  years  ago  in  school, 
and  at  home  on  canvas  with  colored  yarn  or  silk.  Some 
times  the  Lord's  Prayer;  sometimes  a  verse  of  scripter, 
but  oftenest  the  names  of  the  family,  and  when  they  was 
born.  Dot's  got  one,  but  she  hid  it  away  after  she  got  to 
be  forty.  Wall,  Miss  Dalton  set  in  a  rockin'  chair,  work- 
in'  Mr.  Dalton's  name,  and  when  he  was  born,  and  lookin' 
as  innocent  as  the  baby  playin'  on  the  floor.  I  forgot  to 
tell  you  there  was  a  little  boy  two  years  old,  with  eyes 
like  his  mother.  That's  Mark's  grandfather.  When  Miss 
Dalton  see  Mari,  who  came  in  fust,  she  asked  as  chipper 
like,  'Did  you  find  him  ?  Was  he  there  ?' 

"  'No,'  says  Mari.  'It's  mighty  curis,  too,  for  he  started 
for  home  about  eleven  o'clock.' 

'  'Yes/  says  Joel  and  the  bartender,  comin'  in  behind 
her.  'He  started  home  at  eleven  o'clock.  I'm  afraid 
there's  been  foul  play  somewhere/ 

'  'Foul  play,'  Miss  Dalton  gasped,  and  her  face  began 
to  grow  white,  and  there  was  a  scared  look  in  her  eyes, 
which  rolled  round  as  if  lookin'  for  some  place  to  hide. 

'  'Yes,  marm,'  says  Joel.  'Foul  play  of  the  wust  kind. 
Whose  buggy  track  is  that  up  to  the  door  and  back,  and 


THE  TRAGEDY.  39 

off  to  the  east?  Who  was  here  last  night?  They  didn't 
come  to  the  tarvern.' 

"Then  she  turned  whiter,  and  wanted  a  glass  of  water, 
and  told  of  the  strange  actin'  man  who  had  asked  for  Mr. 
Dalton,  and  began  to  wonder  if  anything  could  have  hap 
pened  to  her  John.  The  bartender  had  gone  into  the  yard, 
and  was  lookin'  round  near  the  well, — one  of  them  old- 
fashioned  kind,  with  a  curb  and  sweep  and  bucket.  It 
is  there  now, — the  well,  I  mean.  Of  course,  there's  been 
a  new  curb  and  bucket. 

''  'Great  Scott'  says  'ee,  faint  like  and  sick  at  the  pit 
of  his  stomach. 

"All  round  the  well  in  the  mud  and  grass  was  the 
tracks  of  men's  feet,  as  if  there  had  been  a  hard  scuffle. 

"  'Come  here,  for  Lord's  sake,'  he  called  to  Joel,  and 
Joel  come  and  seen  the  tracks  all  aimin'  for  the  well,  and 
on  the  curb  the  muddy  print  of  a  hand  as  if  some  one  had 
clung  there  fitin'  for  life,  and  right  under  the  curb  what 
do  you  think  was  hangin'  on  a  nail  ?" 

Zacheus  was  very  dramatic  and  eloquent  by  this  time, 
and  pointed  his  forefinger  at  Craig,  who  was  himself  a 
good  deal  shaken,  and  answered  under  his  breath,  "Mr. 
Dalton's  hat !" 

"Oh,  my  land,"  Zacheus  ejaculated,  in  some  disgust. 
"A  stovepipe  hat  on  a  broken  nail!  No,  sir!  The  hat 
was  found  on  the  head  of  the  vally's  brother,  and  on  the 
nail  was  a  piece  of  Mr.  Dalton's  linen  coat  that  everybody 
knew,  and  in  the  well  stickin'  up  out  of  the  water  and 
kinder  lodged  on  the  stones  was  one  of  his  boots  with  his 
foot  in  it!  Joel  was  that  faint  when  he  seen  it  that  the 
bartender  had  to  hold  on  to  him  to  keep  him  from  pitch- 
in'  head  fust  inter  the  well. 

"  'Here's  murder,'  says'ee.    'Mari,  come  here.' 


40  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"She  come,  with  her  knees  knockin'  together  and  a 
lump  in  her  throat  as  big  as  a  goose  aig. 

"  'Mari/  says' ee,  'where  did  you  git  water  for  break 
fast?' 

"  'From  the  spring,  over  there/  pointin'  to  the  orchard. 
'Miss  Dalton  said  she'd  rather  have  the  water  from  there, 
'cause  that  in  the  well  was  low/  says  Mari,  her  tongue 
so  thick  she  could  hardly  talk. 

"  'Have  you  often  got  water  from  there/  says  Joel. 

"  'No/  says  Mari,  and  'Yes,  very  often/  says  Miss 
Dalton. 

"She  had  come  out  to  where  the  tracks  was  in  the  mud, 
and  was  white  now  as  her  gown  and  leanin'  on  to  Mari. 

"  'Miss  Dalton/  says  Joel,  'your  husband  is  in  the  well.' 

"Then  she  screeched  so  loud  that  some  of  the  neighbors 
heard  her  and  come  runnin'  to  see  what  was  the  matter, 
while  she  made  as  if  she'd  throw  herself  over  the  curb, 
but  Joel  catched  her  by  her  clothes  and  pulled  her  back. 

"'Oh,  John,  John.  Is  he  dead?  Get  him  out,  some 
body/  she  cried. 

"  'That's  what  we  are  goin'  to  do.  Who'll  go  down 
after  him  ?'  Joel  said,  and,  as  no  one  offered,  he  pulled  off 
his  shoes  and  stockin's,  and,  tyin'  a  rope  round  his  waist, 
went  down  himself,  clingin'  to  the  slippery  stones,  and  got 
him  up  dead  as  a  door-nail,  with  the  marks  of  two  big 
hands  round  his  throat,  as  if  he  had  been  seized  and 
choked  till  the  life  was  out  of  him,  and  then  been  chucked 
into  the  well  as  the  nearest  place  to  hide  him." 

At  this  point  Uncle  Zacheus  became  so  excited  and  agi 
tated  that  he  was  obliged  to  wait  a  few  minutes  before 
describing  more  of  the  terrible  scenes  which  shook  the. 
little  village  of  Ridgefield  to  its  depths  that  summer  morn 
ing,  when  the  dead  man  lay  upon  the  grass  in  his  dripping 
garments,  a  bruise  on  his  forehead  where  he  must  have 


THE   TRAGEDY.  41 

struck  a  stone  in  his  fall,  and  a  look  of  horror  in  his  wide- 
open  eyes  as  he  lay  wfth  his  face  upturned  to  the  sky.. 

"Oh,  John,  who  could  have  done  this?"  Mrs.  Dalton 
moaned,  as  she  knelt  beside  him,  her  arms  across  his  chest 
and  her  long  curls  falling  over  his  swollen  features. 

Unnoticed  by  any  one,  the  little  boy,  Robbie,  had  crept 
down  the  doorsteps  and  came  toddling  across  the  yard 
to  the  group  by  the  well. 

"Papa,  mam-ma,"  he  said,  laying  one  hand  on  his 
mother's  head  and  the  other  on  his  father's  wet  hair. 
"Papa,  wake  up.  I's  Taid,"  he  said,  shaking  the  drops 
of  water  from  his  fingers  and  beginning  to  cry. 

"'Twas  awful,"  Uncle  Zach  said,  resuming  the  story 
and  dwelling  at  length  upon  the  picture  of  the  little  boy 
stooping  over  his  dead  father  and  trying  to  wake  him  up. 
"Yes,  'twas  awful,  and,  though  I'll  bet  I've  told  the  story 
over  a  hundred  times,  if  I  have  once,  I  can  never  get  over 
that  part  without  somethin'  stickin'  in  my  throat  and 
thinkin'  what  if  it  had  been  Johnny  and  me,  with  Dot 
makin'  b'lieve.  Oh — h,"  and  he  groaned  aloud ; — then 
continued :  "  'Oh,  please  somebody  find  the  murderers,' 
Miss  Dalton  said ;  and  Joel  answered :  'You  bet  we  will. 
We  know  'em,'  and  he  winked  at  the  bartender. 

"They'd  got  the  coroner  there  and  half  the  town  come 
with  him,  for  the  news  flew  like  lightnin',  and  the  yard 
was  full,  and  the  fence  was  full, — the  folks  fightin'  to  git 
sight  of  the  tracks  in  the  mud,  and  the  well  and  the  mark 
of  a  hand  on  the  curb  and  the  piece  of  his  coat  on  a  nail, 
and  when  they  couldn't  do  that  they  went  and  looked  at 
the  wheel  tracks  where  the  buggy  turned  in  the  lane,  and 
then  went  back  and  fit  agin  to  see  the  well.  The  women 
was  mostly  in  the  house  where  Miss  Dalton  sat  wringin' 
her  hands  soft  as  wool  and  covered  with  rings,  her  white 
gown  bedraggled  with  mud  and  her  hair  flyin'  over  her 


42  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

face,  makin'  her  look  like  a  crazy  critter.  I  tell  you  she 
stimulated  grief  so  well  that  she  could  almost  have  de 
ceived  the  very  elect,  and  folks  at  fust  didn't  know  what 
to  think.  That  Mr.  Dalton  had  been  killed  was  sure,  and 
the  verdict  was  wilful  murder  by  somebody,  and  in  less 
than  ten  minutes  a  posse  of  men  with  Joel  and  the  con 
stable  started  full  run  for  Worcester.  At  a  livery  stable 
there  they  heard  that  a  boss  driv'  nearly  to  death  had 
come  in  towards  mornin'.  Who  brought  him  the  stable 
man  didn't  know.  It  wa'n't  the  one  who  hired  him  the 
afternoon  before,  but  he  paid  the  bill, — a  big  one,  too, — 
the  hoss  was  so  used  up,  and  he  wore  a  stovepipe  hat. 
That  was  Mr.  Dalton's,  and  the  man  was  the  vally's 
brother.  I  b'lieve  I  could  have  planned  better  than  they 
did,  for  they  left  their  tracks  so  plain  behind  'em  that 
before  sundown  they  was  all  three  under  arrest  and  an 
officer  on  the  way  to  Ridgefield  to  keep  an  eye  on  Miss 
Dalton  and  Mari.  They  found  Mr.  Dalton's  gold  watch 
in  the  vally's  pocket  and  his  wallet  and  twenty-five  dollars 
in  the  pocket  of  the  vally's  brother.  St.  John  was  at  a 
hotel  with  a  cigar  in  his  mouth,  readin'  a  paper  as  cool  as 
you  please  and  mighty  indignant  at  being  suspected  of 
murder.  He  pretended  to  be  awfully  shocked  at  the  news. 
Dalton  was  his  best  friend,  he  said,  and  he'd  no  more 
harm  him  than  he  would  himself.  He  knew  nothing  about 
the  movements  of  the  vally  or  his  brother.  He  was  at  the 
hotel  all  night  and  could  prove  it.  This  was  true,  but  the 
vally's  brother  gin  him  away  by  sayin'  to  him  low,  but 
so  as  to  be  heard,  'We  sink  or  swim  together;  that  was 
the  bargain,  and  I've  papers  to  prove  it.'  They  found  'em 
on  him,  too,  and  the  three  was  clapped  into  jail,  and  Joel 
and  his  men  and  the  officer  got  back  some  time  in  the 
night  to  Ridgefield,  which  next  mornin'  was  all  up  in 
arms  wus  than  the  day  before. 


THE  TRAGEDY.  43 

"My  grandmother  lived  here,  and  she  said  half  the 
women  was  runnin'  the  street  bareheaded,  and  some  with 
their  sleeves  up  and  their  kitchen  aprons  on,  tellin'  the 
news  of  the  arrest  to  them  who  hadn't  heard  it,  and  then 
makin'  a  bee  line  for  the  Dalton  house,  where  Miss  Dalton 
still  set  in  her  muddy  white  gown,  with  her  hair  streamin' 
down  her  back,  and  she  as  cold  and  white  as  a  block  of 
marble.  She'd  set  up  all  night;  they  couldn't  make  her 
go  to  bed,  and  when  the  men  got  back  and  she  heard  St. 
John  was  took,  she  turned  blue,  but  never  spoke  nor 
stirred.  In  the  room  with  her  was  the  officer  watchin' 
her  and  Mari,  who  was  in  hysterics  most  of  the  time. 
They'd  laid  Mr.  Dalton  out  beautiful  in  his  best  clothes, 
and  Miss  Dalton  had  been  in  to  see  him.  They  tried  to 
shet  his  eyes,  but  couldn't,  and  they  was  wide  open,  star- 
in'  at  you,  and  when  Miss  Dalton  see  'em  she  cried :  'Oh, 
John,  John,  don't  look  at  me  like  that,'  and  fell  down  in  a 
swound,  and  they  didn't  know  for  a  spell  but  she  was 
dead. 

"They  made  him  the  biggest  funeral  Ridgefield  ever 
seen,  and  folks  come  for  miles  and  miles  around.  Why, 
Joel  took  in  for  drinks  and  keepin'  horses  more'n  he'd 
took  for  months.  'Twas  better  than  general  trainin',  or  a 
cattle  show  for  him.  Miss  Dalton  sat  like  a  stone  with 
folks  starin'  at  her  as  if  they'd  never  seen  her  before,  and 
that  strange  man  always  close  to  her.  When  she  got  back 
from  the  grave  she  was  that  wilted  they  had  to  carry  her 
into  the  house  and  put  her  on  the  bed,  where  she  lay,  never 
movin',  nor  speakin',  only  moanin',  like  some  dumb  critter 
in  pain. 

"They  took  her  next  day,  and  the  screetch  she  gin  when 
they  told  her  she  was  arrested  was  so  awful  that  folks  in 
the  road  heard  it;  then  she  froze  up  ag'in,  except  when 
she  looked  at  her  little  boy.  They  say  'twas  touchin', 


44  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

and  made  'em  all  cry  when  she  bid  him  good-bye,  with  him 
a  sayin',  Take,  mam-ma;  take  me,'  and  clingin'  to  her 
dress  she  had  on, — the  silk  one  Mr.  Dalton  had  bought 
her  and  the  gold  beads  round  her  neck." 

Here  Uncle  Zacheus'  feelings  so  overcame  him  a 
second  time  that  he  could  scarcely  finish  the  story,  and 
tell  of  Mrs.  Dalton's  farewell  to  her  baby  and  home  and 
Maria,  against  whom  there  did  not  seem  sufficient  evi 
dence  to  warrant  her  arrest.  She  would  be  needed  as 
a  witness  later,  and  was  left  with  the  child  whom  Mrs. 
Dalton  entrusted  to  her,  saying,  as  she  took  his  little 
hands  from  her  dress  and  put  them  in  Maria's,  "It  is  pre 
posterous  to  believe  they  can  find  me  guilty.  But  if  the 
worst  happens,  and  I  never  come  back,  take  good  care  of 
Robbie,  and  tell  him  all  the  good  you  know  of  his  mother." 

Then  like  some  tragic  queen  she  turned  to  the  officer, 
and,  with  a  proud  toss  of  her  head,  said  to  him,  "Sir,  I  am 
ready." 

She  was  all  in  black,  with  no  color  about  her  except 
the  beads  and  her  luxuriant  golden  hair,  which  showed 
under  her  widow's  bonnet  like  a  gleam  of  yellow  sun 
shine  as  she  was  driven  away  from  the  home  she  was 
never  to  see  again.  The  trial  which  came  on  quickly  did 
not  last  long.  There  were  not  many  witnesses,  and  few 
were  needed,  the  case  was  so  plain.  Maria  was  on  the 
stand  until  she  lost  her  wits  entirely,  and  what  she  said 
one  minute  she  contradicted  the  next.  Only  one  point  of 
any  importance  was  brought  out  by  her  evidence.  Mrs. 
Dalton's  name  was  Christina,  which  her  husband  short 
ened  into  'Tina,  and  Maria  testified  that  on  the  night  of 
the  murder,  after  she  heard  a  man's  voice  speaking  to 
Mrs.  Dalton,  she  thought  she  heard,  or  dreamed  that 
she  did,  some  one  call  "'Tina,  Tina,"  in  what  she 


THE  TRAGEDY.  45 

described  "a  gugglin' "  voice,  like  one  in  distress  or 
choking. 

Up  to  this  point  Mrs.  Dalton  had  sat  with  her  face  un 
veiled,  her  youthful  beauty  enhanced  by  her  widow's 
weeds  and  her  bright  hair,  telling  upon  the  sympathy  of 
the  spectators.  But  when  Maria  repeated  the  name 
"  Tina,"  as  it  must  have  been  called  that  awful  night  by 
her  dying  husband,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  moaned,  "Oh,  Maria,  in  mercy  stop  before  I  go 
mad." 

Then  Maria  broke  down  and  was  taken  from  the  room 
for  a  time,  nor  could  any  amount  of  questioning  after 
wards  wring  from  her  a  confession  that  she  ever  observed 
anything  wrong  between  Mrs.  Dalton  and  St.  John.  He 
liked  her, — she  liked  him, — and  they  played  and  sang 
together  a  good  deal  when  Mr.  Dalton  was  home,  and 
more,  perhaps,  when  he  wasn't.  There  was,  however, 
sufficient  evidence  to  convict  Mrs.  Dalton  without  Maria's. 
The  papers  referred  to  by  the  man  called  by  Uncle 
Zacheus  the  "vally's  brother,"  and  whose  real  name  was 
Davis, — a  recent  convict  from  state's  prison, — contained  a 
promise  from  St.  John  to  pay  Davis  and  his  comrade, 
Brown,  another  convict,  one  thousand  dollars  to  get  Mr. 
Dalton  out  of  the  way.  Davis,  who,  in  spite  of  his  un 
prepossessing  appearance,  was  the  least  hardened  of  the 
two  men,  confessed  that  several  plans  had  been  suggested 
and  talked  over  and  abandoned,  until  he  was  getting  tired 
and  would  have  given  up  but  for  the  thousand  dollars, 
five  hundred  of  which  Mrs.  Dalton  had  agreed  to  pay. 
The  visit  to  Ridgefield  that  night  was  an  accident.  The 
horse  had  been  hired  to  go  to  an  intermediate  town.  On 
reaching  it  Brown  had  suggested  going  to  Ridgefield 
to  see  how  the  land  lay,  as  he  expressed  it.  On  hearing 
from  Mrs.  Dalton  that  her  husband  was  at  the  hotel,  and 


46  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

that  .she  was  expecting  him  home  when  the  storm  was 
over,  they  decided  that  this  was  their  opportunity,  as  no 
one  knew  they  were  in  town,  and,  waiting  in  the  darkness 
and  rain,  they  accomplished  their  work.  Taken  as  he  was 
by  surprise,  Mr.  Dalton  uttered  no  cry  as  they  grasped  his 
throat,  except  the  words  "  Tina,  Tina,"  while  the  Tina 
called  for  gave  no  sign  if  she  heard  it. 

She  said  she  didn't,  but  few  believed  her.  The  evidence 
against  her  as  an  accessory  to  the  murder  was  sufficient  to 
convict  her,  and  with  the  three  men  she  was  sentenced  to 
be  hung.  Efforts  were  made  to  commute  her  punishment 
to  imprisonment  for  life,  but  public  opinion  was  strong 
against  her,  and  with  her  coadjutors  in  the  crime  she 
suffered  the  penalty  of  the  law. 

After  the  execution,  which  was  public  and  which  hun 
dreds  attended,  a  half  brother  of  Mr.  Dalton  came  to  look 
after  the  property  in  the  interest  of  his  nephew.  In  ac 
cordance  with  Mrs.  Dalton's  request  repeated  to  Maria, 
who  visited  her  once  in  her  cell,  the  latter  took  charge  of 
the  little  boy  during  his  childhood,  and  for  some  time 
lived  alone  with  him  in  the  house,  bravely  righting  her 
nervous  dread  of  the  room  where  the  body  had  lain,  and 
her  terror  on  wild,  rainy  nights  when  she  fancied  she 
heard  her  master's  voice  calling  "  Tina,  Tina"  through 
the  storm, — the  sound  of  a  scuffle  near  the  well,  and  the 
wheels  on  the  grass  as  the  murderers  drove  away.  At 
last,  overmastered  by  her  fear,  she  left  the  house  and  the 
town,  taking  the  child  with  her  and  going  to  Canada 
where  her  friends  were  living. 

Gradually  the  tragedy  ceased  to  be  talked  about,  except 
when  revived  by  stories  that  the  house  was  haunted.  It 
was  rented  at  first,  then  sold  by  Robbie,  who,  after  attain 
ing  his  majority,  came  once  to  Ridgefield  and  was  de 
scribed  as  a  fine-looking  young  man,  much  like  his  father. 


THE   TRAGEDY.  47 

There  had  been  a  stone  placed  at  his  father's  grave,  but 
none  at  his  mother's,  nor  did  he  order  one.  He  was  there 
to  sell  his  property,  and  he  sold  it  and  went  away,  while 
family  after  family  occupied  the  house.  If  they  did  not 
believe  in  the  supernatural  they  heard  nothing.  If  they 
did  believe  in  it  they  heard  a  great  deal ;  a  struggle  by  the 
well  at  midnight  when  the  rain  was  falling  heavily  and 
the  sky  was  inky  black  ;  a  sound  of  wheels  upon  the  grass ; 
a  choking  call  for  'Tina;  stealthy  footsteps  across  the 
floor,  as  if  in  response  to  that  call  Tina  had  gone  to  the 
window  and  looked  out;  and  a  child's  cry  for  papa  and 
mamma,  which  came  at  any  time,  day  or  night.  The 
mamma  lay  in  her  unmarked  sunken  grave  and  the  papa 
under  the  shadow  of  the  south  wall  in  Ridgefield  ceme 
tery.  Robert  became  a  husband,  a  father  and  a  grand 
father,  and  he,  too,  died.  Years  passed  and  every  actor  in 
that  tragic  scene  was  dead,  but  its  memory  was  kept  alive 
by  the  house  fast  going  to  decay.  For  a  long  time  it  was 
unoccupied,  and  "For  Sale"  nailed  upon  the  door,  while 
the  storms  and  the  boys  played  havoc  with  it,  inside  and 
out.  Then  Mark  Hilton,  the  clerk  at  the  Prospect  House, 
and  great-grandson  of  Mr.  Dalton,  bought  it  for  a  song. 
He  called  it  his  ancestral  hall,  and  said  when  he  married 
he  should  bring  his  bride  there  and  quiet  'Tina's  ghost, 
which  still  haunted  it,  clad  in  a  soiled  white  dress,  with 
her  long  curls  down  her  back.  He  straightened  up  her 
grave  and  put  a  plain  headstone  to  it  with  just  her  name, 
Christina  Dalton,  upon  it.  Some  people  censured  him 
for  -this,  and  twice  he  found  the  stone  lying  upon  the 
ground  face  down,  where  it  had  been  thrown  by  some 
malicious  or  mischievous  person.  Without  a  word  of 
comment  he  put  it  in  its  place,  and  whatever  pain  or  hu 
miliation  he  felt  for  his  ancestor  he  made  no  sign,  and 
}ield  his  head  as  high  as  if,  through  the  vista  of  nearly  a 


48  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

hundred  years,  no  dark  crime  was  looming  which  could 
in  any  possible  way  touch  his  good  name.    He  had  come 
to    Ridgefield    as    a    teacher    from    Amherst    College, 
where  he  had  been   for  two  years,  and  had   taken   his 
place    among    the    best    people    of    the    town.     Once 
or    twice,    after    correcting    an    unruly    boy,  he    found 
a    chalk    picture    of    a    gallows     on    the    blackboard 
in    the    morning,    and,     instead     of     rubbing     it     out, 
he  drew  a  fair  likeness  of  the  boy  artist  dangling  by  the 
rope  and  left  it  there  all  day.    There  were  no  more  insult 
ing  pictures  upon  the  board,  and  his  pupils  treated  him 
with  great  respect.     But  school  teaching  was  not  to  his 
taste,  and  he  finally  gave  it  up  and  hired  to  Mr.  Taylor, 
who  was  never  tired  of  eulogizing  him,  and  who  finished 
his  story  of  the  Dalton  house  by  saying:     "There's  no 
more  hereditary  in  Mark  than  there  is  in  me.     No,  sir! 
His  folks  lived  in  New  Bedford.    Father  was  a  sea  cap 
tain  and  drowned;  mother  died  a  natural  death,  and  left 
him  a  little  money;  not  much,  and  he's  willin'  to  do  any 
thing  for  an  honest  livin.'    If  there's  anything  in  enviry- 
men'  he's  got  it  strong.    Mari  brought  up  his  grandfather 
Robert  and  had  him  go  to  college.     He  was  here  once. 
The  Daltons  was  high  bloods  and  never  took  much  notice 
of  him  on  account  of  his  mother.      But,  bless  your  soul, 
he  wasn't  to  blame  for  her  any  more  than  Mark  is.    Mari, 
who  married  in  Canada,  was  a  good  woman,  and  great- 
great-grandmother  to  Jeff,  who  acts  at  times  as  if  pos 
sessed  with  the  devil;  has  some  habits  I  don't  like,  but 
he'll  git  over  'em,  for  he's  a  good  boy  on  the  whole, — well 
meanin'  and  friendly.    His  name  is  Jefferson  Wilkes.  His 
folks  is  all  dead  and  he  was  jest  a  wafer  on  the  streets 
in  Boston,  turnin'  somersets  for  a  penny  a  turn  and  sleepin' 
in  a  big  hogshead  on  the  wharf  at  night  when  Mark  found 
him.     He'd  kep'  track  of  Mari's  pedigree,  tracin'   'em 


EXPECTED   GUESTS.  49 

down  to  the  boy  and  was  huntin'  for  him.  He  asked  Dot 
to  take  him,  and  said  if  he  didn't  earn  his  board  he'd  pay 
the  rest.  He'll  get  plenty  of  envirymen'  here,  for  Dot 
makes  him  toe  the  mark,  especially  Sundays,  learnin'  the 
catechism  and  verses  in  the  Bible,  and  boxes  his  ears 
when  he  don't  behave.  Mark  laughs  and  gives  him  a  stick 
of  candy  for  every  box.  Pays  for  it,  though.  He's  hon 
esty  itself.  I'd  trust  him  with  all  I  own." 

"Yes,  Dotty.  I'll  be  there,"  he  added,  as  there  came 
'round  the  corner  a  call  to  which  he  always  paid  attention. 
"I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes  and  tell  you  the  rest,"  he 
said,  as  he  hurried  away  in  the  direction  of  the  call. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

EXPECTED  GUESTS. 

IT  was  fifteen  minutes  or  more  before  he  returned,  and 
taking  his  seat,  began :  "  ''Dot  is  so  flurried  and  upset 
about  them  Tracys  that  she  actually  consulted  me.  You 
know  they  are  comin'  to-night  ?" 

"Who  is  coming?"  Craig  asked,  rather  relieved  with  a 
change  from  the  Daltons  to  the  Tracys. 

"Why,  Miss  Freeman  Tracy,  from  New  York,"  Uncle 
Zach  replied.  "Her  grandfather  was  Gen.  Allen,  one  of 
our  big  bugs, — lived  in  the  house  with  the  biggest  brass 
knocker,  and  has  that  tall  monument  in  the  cemetery. 
She's  comin,'  and  that's  why  the  west  wing  is  bottom  side 
up,  and  Dot  don't  kow  whether  she's  on  her  head  or  her 
feet.  It's  somethin'  to  brag  about  havin'  Miss  Tracy 
here.  She  wrote  for  a  saloon  to  eat  in.  We've  gin  her 
the  west  parlor  and  four  bedrooms  for  herself  and 


gO  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

daughter  and  niece  and  maid.  None  of  'em  can  sleep  to 
gether.  Nobody  can  nowadays.  They  are  comin'  to-night, 
on  the  eight  train." 

Craig  had  been  greatly  interested  .in  the  Dalton  story, 
though  a  little  confused  at  the  last,  with  so  much  heredity 
and  environment  and  so  many  great-great-grandfathers. 
Still  he  managed  to  get  a  pretty  good  idea  of  it  and 
was  deciding  in  his  mind  to  visit  the  old  house  again  and 
go  through  the  rooms  where  'Tina's  ghost  was  said  to 
walk  on  stormy  nights.  At  the  mention  of  Mrs.  Tracy, 
who  was  coming  with  two  young  ladies,  his  thoughts  were 
directed  into  a  different  channel. 

"I  think  I  have  heard  of  Mrs.  Tracy.  Is  she  very 
wealthy  ?"  he  asked. 

"Yes,  piles  of  money,  with  diamond  earrings  as  big"  as 
robins'  aigs.  I've  never  seen  'em,  but  some  woman  from 
here  was  at  Saratoga  last  summer,  and  said  they  was  the 
talk  of  the  town,  and  she  never  let  'em  out  of  her  sight. 
I  hope  she'll  bring  'em.  I  never  seen  such  stuns.  1 
wonder  what  they  cost,  and  what  do  you  s'pose  she 
wants  of  a  maid  here,  when  we  cook  her  victuals  and 
serve  it  ?" 

Craig  did  not  reply.  He  was  thinking  of  Mrs.  Tracy 
and  her  daughter,  who  was  a  great  belle  and  notorious 
flirt.  He  had  heard  of  them  at  Saratoga  as  occupying 
the  finest  suite  of  rooms  at  the  United  States,  where  the 
daughter  kept  around  her  a  crowd  of  gentlemen,  whom 
she  attracted  or  repelled  as  the  fancy  took  her.  He  had 
only  seen  her  at  a  distance,  when  it  was  impossible  to 
tell  just  how  she  looked,  nor  did  he  care  for  a  closer 
acquaintance,  and  when  asked  to  call  upon  her  had  de 
clined  to  do  so.  He  detested  flirts,  and  was  not  particu 
larly  interested  in  girls  of  any  kind.  Certainly  not  in 
Miss  Tracy.  Still  he  was  glad  she  was  coming.  It 


EXPECTED    GUESTS.  51 

would  be  a  change,  and  he  was  getting  tired  with  no 
company  but  Browning.  There  was  no  possible  danger 
of  his  falling  a  victim  to  her  wiles.  He  was  not  a  ladies' 
man,  and  if  he  were,  a  coquette  of  Miss  Tracy's  style 
would  be  the  last  woman  he  should  select  for  a  wife. 
Of  the  niece  he  scarcely  thought  at  all,  except  to  ask 
Uncle  Zach  her  name.  Zacheus  didn't  know.  Mrs. 
Tracy  telegraphed  that  morning  that  she  was  coming, 
and  there  must  be  a  room  for  her. 

"Probably  a  poor  relation,"  came  into  Craig's  mind, 
and  the  niece  was  dismissed  from  it.  The  daughter, 
however,  occupied  a  good  share  of  his  thoughts  as  the 
day  wore  on,  and  moving  his  seat  from  the  north  piazza 
to  the  south,  he  watched  the  settling  of  the  west  wing, 
which  the  Tracys  were  to  occupy,  with  a  good  deal  of 
interest.  Once,  in  passing  him,  Mark  stopped  and  said : 
"You  would  suppose  the  queen  of  England  was  coming 
instead  of  a  woman  with  nothing  to  recommend  her  but 
money,  or  family,  which  sometimes  counts  more  than 
money." 

He  spoke  a  little  bitterly,  and  Craig  wondered  if  he 
were  thinking  of  his  own  tarnished  heritage.  If  it  is 
possible  for  the  future  to  turn  backward  and  touch 
those  whom  its  events  are  to  influence,  it  would  seem 
as  if  it  had  done  so  with  Craig  and  Mark.  Both  were 
exceedingly  restless  that  afternoon,  and  their  restlessness 
manifested  itself  differently.  Mark  went  to  the  cemetery, 
— a  very  unusual  thing  for  him, — and  stood  by  'Tina's 
grave  and  looked  at  the  headstone,  with  only  ''Christina 
Dalton"  upon  it,  and  for  a  few  moments  rebelled  against 
the  fate  which  had  linked  him  with  the  dead  woman 
at  his  feet.  He  had  heard  the  whole  story  of  the  tragedy ; 
not  one  particular  had  been  omitted  in  the  tolling  of  it 
to  him,  and  now,  as  he  went  over  it  in  imagination,  he 


£2  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

took  a  different  view  of  it  from  what  he  had  ever  done 
before.  Any  thing  like  heredity  had  never  troubled  him, 
the  relationship  was  so  remote.  But  the  possibility  came 
to  him  now,  and  he  said  to  himself:  "Her  blood  is  in 
my  veins, — strongly  diluted, — but  it  is  there,  and  under 
provocation  might  work  me  harm  if  I  yielded  to  it.  But 
I  will  not.  I'll  be  a  man  for  a'  that.  She  was  only  my 
great-grandmother,  or  great-great-grandmother,  which 
was  it  ?  Poor  'Tina.  Perhaps  she  was  not  guilty.  She 
said  she  was  not,  except  for  liking  another  man  better 
than  her  husband.  Other  women  have  done  that." 

The  year  before  he  had  planted  a  white  rose  at  Mr. 
Dalton's  grave.  It  was  the  running  species,  and  one 
long  arm  had  reached  out  and  twined  itself  around 
'Tina's  headstone,  on  the  top  of  which  was  a  half  opened 
rose  nestled  among  a  quantity  of  leaves.  Mark  was  fond 
of  flowers,  and  cut  the  rose  carefully  from  its  stalk,  in 
tending  to  put  it  in  the  office. 

"I  guess  there's  nothing  of  'Tina  about  it/'  he  said, 
as  he  picked  a  few  leaves  and  weeds  from  the  grass  on 
tier  grave,  examined  the  stone  to  see  if  it  were  secure, 
and  then  returned  to  the  hotel. 

Craig  had  been  differently  employed.  He  always  made 
some  changes  in  his  toilet  before  supper,  and  this  after 
noon  he  took  a  little  more  pains  with  it  than  usual,  al 
though  it  was  not  likely  that  he  would  see  the  ladies  that 
night.  As  his  mother  was  gone,  he  took  his  supper 
alone,  and  with  his  quick  eye  saw  that  two  or  three  pieces 
of  china  and  glass  were  missing.  He  might  not  have 
giyen  it  a  second  thought  if  he  had  not  heard  Mr.  Taylor 
telling  a  boarder  that  the  rooms  for  Miss  Tracy  were 
•n  apple  pie  order,  and  the  table  sot  for  supper  in  the 
saloon,  with  the  best  linen  and  china  and  silver.  The 
missing  articles  were  accounted  for.  They  were  adorn- 


EXPECTED   GUESTS.  53 

ing  the  table  in  the  saloon.  Boston  had  gone  down  in 
the  scale,  and  New  York  was  in  the  ascendant. 

''I  don't  object,"  he  thought,  "so  long  as  she  leaves 
us  a  china  tea  cup.  I  should  not  like  those  thick  things 
I  see  on  some  of  the  tables." 

After  his  supper  he  went  round  to  the  west  piazza,  and, 
walking  up  and  down,  glanced  into  the  room  where  the 
table  was  laid  for  three,  and  looked  very  inviting  with  its 
snowy  linen,  china  and  glass.  He  recognized  the  cream 
jug  and  sugar  bowl  which  had  done  duty  for  his  mother 
and  himself,  and  was  glad  they  were  there.  It  seemed 
right  and  proper  that  the  Tracys,  as  new-comers,  should 
take  the  precedence.  He  was  getting  quite  interested 
in  them,  and  when  he  saw  there  were  no  flowers  on  the 
table  he  asked  Sarah,  the  house-maid,  if  she  had  forgotten 
them. 

"We  hain't  any  but  flag  lilies,  and  I  didn't  know  as 
they'd  be  pretty.  I'll  pick  some  if  you  say  so,"  she  said. 

He  knew  she  meant  the  fleurs-de-lis,  of  which  he  had 
seen  great  clumps  from  his  window.  They  were  blue, — 
his  color, — and  he  followed  Sarah  to  the  garden,  where 
she  gathered  a  large  bunch  of  the  lilies  together  with 
some  young  ferns  growing  near  them. 

"They  do  look  pretty,"  she  said,  admiring  the  effect, 
as  she  placed  them  in  the  centre  of  the  table.  "Be  you 
acquainted  with  the  ladies  ?" 

"No,  I  am  not,  but  I  know  city  people  like  to  find  fresh 
flowers  in  their  rooms  when  they  go  into  the  country," 
Craig  replied,  and  then,  as  it  was  nearly  time  for  his 
mother's  train  from  East  Ridgefield,  he  went  to  meet  her. 

As  he  was  walking  with  her  up  the  long  hill  from  the 
station  he  told  her  of  the  expected  arrivals,  and  asked 
if  she  had  ever  seen  the  ladies. 

"Once  when  I  called  on  some  friends  at  the  United 


54  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

States,  in  Saratoga,  the  mother  and  daughter  were  in 
the  parlors,  and  were  pointed  out  to  me.  I  remember 
thinking  them  very  showily  dressed,  and  that  Mrs. 
Tracy's  diamond  earrings  were  quite  too  large  for  good 
taste.  The  daughter  had  half  a  dozen  young  men  around 
her,"  was  Mrs.  Mason's  reply,  and  her  chin  gave  a  tilt 
in  the  air,  which  Craig  knew  was  indicative  of  her  disap 
proval  of  the  Tracys. 

Craig  told  her  of  Mrs.  Taylor's  elation  on  account  of 
her  distinguished  guests,  and  of  the  removal  of  the  cream 
jug  and  sugar  bowl  from  the  table  to  the  salon. 

"Boston  is  nowhere,  and  we  may  corre  down  to  two- 
tined  forks  and  plated  spoons,"  he  said  laughingly,  while 
his  mother  laughed  in  return. 

She  had  no  anxiety  about  the  forks  or  the  spoons,  but 
she  was  a  little  anxious  with  regard  to  the  young  lady, 
of  whose  outrageous  coquetry  she  had  heard  a  great 
deal,  and,  mother-like,  she  dropped  a  word  of  warning. 

"No  danger  for  me,"  Craig  said.  "Forewarned  is 
forearmed,  but  I  am  glad  she  is  coming.  We  want 
something  to  brighten  us  up." 

Meanwhile  Mark  Hilton  had  also  made  the  tour  of 
the  west  piazza,  and  glanced  in  at  the  table  with  its 
centrepiece  of  fleurs-de-lis  and  ferns. 

"I  didn't  know  you  had  so  much  taste,"  he  said  to 
Sarah,  who  was  putting  some  napkins  at  the  plates. 

"  Twasn't  me ;  'twas  Mr.  Mason  thought  of  it,"  Sarah 
replied,  and  Mark  was  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  not 
wishing  to  be  outdone  by  Craig. 

"I'll  contribute  my  moiety,"  he  thought,  and  bringing 
the  rose  from  the  office,  he  placed  it  on  the  table. 

It  was  very  fragrant,  and  filled  the  room  with  perfume, 
and  Mark  smiled  as  he  thought :  "They  can't  help  no 
ticing  it,  but  will  not  know  it  came  from  'Tina's  grave." 


EXPECTED   GUESTS.  55 

It  lacked  but  half  an  hour  of  the  time  for  the  New 
York  train.  The  scorching  heat  of  the  day  had  given 
place  to  a  feeling  of  rain.  In  the  west  great  banks  of 
clouds  had  obscured  the  setting  sun,  while  growls  of 
thunder,  growing  louder  and  nearer,  heralded  the  storm, 
which  came  on  so  fast  that  by  the  time  the  hotel  carriage 
was  ready  for  the  station  the  wind  was  blowing  a  gale, 
and  the  rain  falling  in  torrents. 

"Great  guns !"  Uncle  Zacheus  exclaimed  as  he  saw 
one  of  the  horses  rear  on  his  hind  feet  when  a  peal  of 
thunder,  which  shook  the  house,  broke  over  its  head. 
"If  Jake  hain't  got  out  the  bloods !  They  are  as  'fraid  of 
thunder  and  lightnin'  as  they  can  be.  He  can't  hold 
'em  a  minit.  Somebody'll  have  to  go  with  him  and  see 
to  the  ladies.  Mark,  do  you  feel  like  it?" 

"Certainly,"  Mark  answered,  and  Craig  saw  him  in  the 
hall  a  few  minutes  later  habited  in  his  mackintosh  and 
wide-rimmed  hat,  which  shed  water  like  an  umbrella. 

Owing  to  the  storm  the  train  was  late,  and  Mrs.  Taylor 
was  greatly  worried  lest  her  broiled  chicken  and  coffee 
should  be  spoiled.  She  had  put  on  her  second  best  dress, 
with  a  pretty  little  cap  and  lavender  bow,  and  with  her 
white  apron  looked  the  embodiment  of  the  buxom  land 
lady,  as  she  hovered  between  the  kitchen  and  the  salon 
and  the  front  door,  giving  a  sharp  reproof  to  Jeff,  who 
came  sliding  down  the  banister,  nearly  upsetting  her  as, 
with  a  summersault,  he  landed  on  his  feet.  Jeff  was  also 
interested  in  the  expected  guests,  and  if  the  future  had 
stretched  backward  and  touched  both  Mark  and  Craig,  it 
had  grasped  him  as  well,  making  him  seem  more  pos 
sessed  than  ever  as  he  rolled  around  the  house  wherever 
there  was  room  for  his  athletics. 

"There  they  be,"  he  exclaimed,  as  the  carnage  drove 


56  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

up  with  Mark  on  the  box,  the  water  dripping  from  his 
hat  and  coat,  for  it  was  still  raining  heavily. 

With  a  bound  he  sprang  to  the  ground  just  as  Jeff 
came  darting  out  with  an  umbrella  and  opened  the  car 
riage  door.  On  the  walk  were  pools  of  water,  and 
Mark's  feet  splashed  in  them  as  he  stepped  to  the  side 
of  Jeff  just  as  one  of  the  ladies  put  her  head  from  the 
door  and  then,  with  a  cry  of  dismay,  drew  back. 

"I  can  never  go  through  all  that  water ;  it  is  actually 
a  pond,"  she  said,  and  Mrs.  Taylor,  who  was  holding  a 
lamp  in  the  door,  felt  sure  that  the  voice  belonged  to  the 
matron  of  the  party. 

"Let  me  assist  you,"  Mark  said,  and,  taking  her  in  his 
arms,  he  ran  up  the  walk  with  her  and  deposited  her  in 
the  hall. 

A  second  foot  was  on  the  carriage  step  when  he  went 
back, — a  very  small  foot, — though  to  which  of  the  young 
ladies  it  belonged  he  could  not  tell.  He  had  seen  neither 
distinctly  at  the  station,  it  was  raining  so  hard,  but  he 
felt  intuitively  that  it  was  Miss  Helen  whom  Jeff  was 
advising  to  keep  still  till  Mr.  Hilton  came  to  fetch  her. 

"Oh,  thanks ;  don't  drop  me,  please,"  she  said,  put 
ting  her  arms  around  his  neck  as  if  afraid  of  falling. 

He  felt  her  breath  through  the  dampness  of  the  night, 
and  as  Mrs.  Taylor  just  then  held  her  lamp  higher,  he 
caught  sight  of  two  bright,  laughing  eyes,  and  if  he  held 
her  a  little  closer  than  he  had  held  the  older  woman,  it 
was  not  strange.  He  was  young,  and  she  was  young,  and 
would  have  flirted  in  her  coffin  had  she  life  to  do  it. 

"I  hope  you  are  not  very  wet.  It  is  a  nasty  night,"  he 
said,  as  he  put  her  down  by  her  mother. 

"Not  wet  at  all,  thanks  to  your  kindness;  but  please 
go  back  for  Alice,"  the  lady  said,  as  he  showed  signs  of 
having  forgotten  there  was  another  to  be  cared  for. 


THE   TRACYS.  57 

Alice  didn't  need  him.    Jeff  was  attending  to  her. 

"I  don't  want  to  be  lifted.  I'm  not  afraid  of  a  little 
wetting;  but  hold  the  umbrella  over  me.  I  shouldn't 
like  to  spoil  my  hat,"  she  said,  and,  gathering  up  her 
dress,  she  ran  swiftly  into  the  house,  followed  by  a  girl, 
presumably  the  maid,  as  she  carried  several  bags  and 
began  to  talk  to  the  ladies  in  what  to  Jeff  was  an  un 
known  tongue. 

Mrs.  Mason's  rooms  were  on  the  other  side  of  the 
hotel,  but  Craig  was  in  the  office  when  the  carriage 
drove  up,  and  saw  Mark  carrying  two  of  its  occupants 
into  the  house,  and  saw  a  third  dashing  like  a  sprite 
through  the  rain  under  the  cover  of  Jeff's  umbrella, 
while  the  fourth  followed  more  leisurely.  Bidding  Uncle 
Zach  good-night,  he  went  to  his  mother's  room  and  said 
to  her :  "The  Tracvs  have  come." 


CHAPTER   VII. 

THE  TRACYS. 

ON  a  morning  in  June,  before  our  story  opens,  Mrs. 
Freeman  Tracy  sat  in  her  breakfast  room  looking  over 
the  papers,  hoping  to  find  some  advertisement  for  a 
pleasant  and  inexpensive  place  in  which  to  spend  the 
summer.  She  had  just  returned  from  Europe,  and  her 
twelve  trunks  were  not  yet  all  unpacked.  So  far  as  real 
estate,  houses  and  lands  were  concerned  she  was  rich, 
but  some  of  the  investments  on  which  she  depended 
largely  for  ready  money  had  failed,  and  she  felt  the 
necessity  of  retrenching  for  a  time. 

"Yes,  mamma,  but  not  here ;  let's  wait  till  we  get  home 


58  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

and  are  tired  arid  glad  to  go  into  some  poky  little  hole," 
her  daughter  Helen  said,  when  it  was  suggested  to  her 
that  they  take  a  less  expensive  suite  of  rooms  in  Paris 
than  they  were  looking  at. 

In  Florence,  where  they  had  spent  most  of  the  winter, 
they  had  occupied  a  handsome  villa  and  entertained  and 
been  entertained  on  a  grand  scale.  Horses  and  carriages 
and  servants  in  livery  had  been  at  their  command  with 
out  stint,  and  Helen  had  been  the  belle  of  the  season. 
Wherever  she  went  she  had  taken  precedence  as  the 
beautiful  American  to  whom  both  her  own  countrymen 
and  foreigners  paid  tribute.  If  a  perfect  form  and  fea 
tures  and  brilliant  complexion  constitute  beauty,  she  was 
pre-eminently  beautiful,  with  the  added  charm  of  a  seem 
ing  unconsciousness  of  her  beauty.  But  it  was  only 
seeming.  She  knew  her  own  value  perfectly,  and  had 
spent  much  time  in  cultivating  that  naturalness  and 
sweetness  of  manner  which  seldom  failed  when  its  object 
was  to  win  either  attention,  admiration  or  love.  Her 
cousin  Alice  said  of  her  that  a  smile  or  a  wink  from  her 
eyes  would  bring  any  man  to  her  feet,  no  matter  how 
callous  he  might  be  to  another  lady's  charms.  To  be 
surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  young  men,  each  one  of  whom 
was  struggling  for  a  chance  to  propose,  while  she  skill 
fully  kept  him  at  bay,  was  a  pastime  in  which  she  de 
lighted,  and  in  which  she  had  been  tolerably  successful. 
At  twenty-two  she  had  received  twenty  offers,  and  could 
count  at  least  twenty  more  who  would  have  proposed 
had  she  given  them  a  chance.  She  had  their  names  in 
a  blue  and  gold  book  which  she  called  her  "Blue  Book." 
Those  who  had  proposed  were  in  one  column,  and  those 
who  wanted  to  in  another,  with  certain  marks  against 
them  indicative  of  their  standing  in  her  estimation  and 
the  possibility  of  her  winking  them  back  if  the  fancy 


THE   TRACYS.  59 

took  her.  There  was  also  a  third  column  with  a  few 
names  of  those  whom  she  did  not  know,  and  whom  she 
greatly  desired  to  know.  Heading  this  list  was  "Craig 
Mason,  Boston  ;  old  family  ;  woman  hater ;  very  aristo 
cratic  and  reserved,  and  almost  too  refined  to  enjoy  him 
self;  does  not  wish  to  know  me;  does  not  like  my  style. 
Should  very  much  like  a  chance  to  wink  at  him,  as  Alice 
expresses  it." 

This  entry  was  made  the  year  before  when  she  was 
at  Saratoga,  and  nearly  every  young  man  from  the  differ 
ent  hotels  had  called  upon  her  except  Craig.  He  had 
been  asked  to  do  so  by  a  friend,  and  had  replied :  "No, 
thanks ;  Miss  Tracy  is  not  my  style." 

This  in  due  time  was  reported  to  her,  and  although 
she  gave  no  sign,  it  rankled  deeply.  She  made  no  effort 
to  meet  him  after  that,  and  only  saw  him  driving  his 
famous  horse,  Dido,  with  his  mother,  who,  she  had 
heard,  was  very  proud  of  her  position  as  Mrs.  Mason, 
and  very  watchful  lest  her  son  should  make  a  mesalliance, 
or  indeed  an  alliance  of  any  kind.  With  her  mother  she 
was  rather  tired  of  travel.  She  had  had  a  good  deal  of 
dissipation  in  Florence  and  Paris  and  London ;  had 
added  a  few  names  to  her  blue  book,  and  had  come  home 
heart  whole  and  exceedingly  glad  to  be  there. 

"If  it  were  the  thing  to  do,  and  I  hadn't  so  many  new 
dresses  to  show,  I'd  rather  stay  here  all  summer  than  go 
dragging  around  to  the  same  places,  stopping  at  the 
same  hotels  and  meeting  the  same  people,  who  say  the 
same  tiresome  things,"  she  said  to  her  mother  as  they 
were  taking  their  breakfast  at  home  after  their  return 
from  abroad. 

In  this  state  of  mind  it  was  easier  than  it  was  in  Europe 
for  her  to  fall  in  with  her  mother's  proposal  that  they 
find  some  quiet  place  in  which  to  spend  a  few  weeks. 


60  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"If  it  is  very  dull  we  can  leave  at  any  time,  and  I  may 
accept  Mr.  Prescott  yet;  I  haven't  quite  decided,"  she 
said,  as  she  sipped  her  chocolate,  while  her  mother  looked 
over  the  papers  in  quest  of  advertisements. 

Mr.  Prescott  was  the  last  man  Helen  had  refused,  but 
she  had  done  it  in  such  a  way  that  she  felt  sure  a  word 
from  her  would  bring  him  back.  She  always  had  some 
one  on  the  leash  in  this  way,  marked  in  her  book  with  a 
big  interrogation,  "so  as  to  run  no  risk  of  being  an  old 
maid,"  she  said  to  her  cousin  Alice,  who  was  her  con 
fidant  in  her  love  affairs,  and  knew  the  three  sets  of 
men  whose  names  were  in  her  "Blue  Book"  as  possibles 
and  impossibles. 

"If  you  are  going  to  some  out  of  the  way  place,  let  it 
be  very  much  out  of  the  way,  where  there  is  no  danger 
of  seeing  people,  or  being  made  love  to.  I'm  so  tired 
of  it,  and  I  really  begin  to  think  it  is  wicked.  Alice  says 
it  is.  Dear  little  chick ;  I  don't  suppose  any  one  ever 
made  love  to  her.  Strange,  too,  when  she  is  so  pretty 
and  sweet." 

"And  poor,"  Mrs.  Tracy  added,  while  Helen  continued : 
"I  don't  believe  that  would  make  any  difference  with 
me.  I  could  wink  'em  up  if  I  hadn't  a  dollar.  I'd  like 
to  pose  once  as  a  penniless  maiden  and  see." 

"What  nonsense,"  Mrs.  Tracy  replied,  and  then  sud 
denly  exclaimed :  "Here  it  is  at  last, — Ridgefield !  My 
grandfather's  old  home.  Strange  I've  never  thought  of 
that  place.  Listen,"  and  she  read  aloud  Mark  Hilton's 
advertisement  of  the  Prospect  House. 

Mrs.  Tracy,  who  had  been  in  Ridgefield  when  a  child, 
had  some  very  pleasant  recollections  of  the  town,  with 
its  river  and  ponds  and  hills,  which  Mark  described  so 
eloquently.  The  palatial  hotel,  with  its  modern  im 
provements,  must  be  something  new,  she  thought,  as 


THE  TRACYS.  6 1 

she  had  no  remembrance  of  it.  But  times  change,  and 
Ridgefield  undoubtedly  kept  pace  with  the  times,  and 
Mrs.  Tracy  thought  she  would  like  to  go  there,  and  said 
so  to  her  daughter. 

"Your  grandfather  was  the  leading  man  in  the  town, 
and  we  should  undoubtedly  be  lionized  by  the  people," 
she  suggested,  while  Helen  shrugged  her  shoulders  and 
replied :  "Oh,  mamma,  do  let  me  indulge  in  a  bit  of 
slang  and  say  dry  up  on  lionizing.  I'm  tired  of  it.  If 
you  want  to  go  to  Ridgefield  I  am  quite  willing.  I  only 
hope  there  isn't  a  newspaper  there,  nor  a  reporter,  to 
write  up  the  beautiful  Miss  Helen  Tracy ;  nor  a  man  to 
make  love  to  her.  Such  a  state  of  things  would  be 
Heaven  for  a  few  weeks;  then  I  should  pine  for  the 
flesh  pots  of  Egypt.  Go  to  Ridgefield  by  all  means. 
I'm  in  love  with  its  scenery  as  set  forth  in  the  paper, 
especially  the  haunted  house,  which  makes  me  feel  a 
little  creepy.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  it  when  you  were 
there?" 

Mrs.  Tracy  replied  that  she  was  almost  too  young 
to  have  such  things  make  an  impression  upon  her  when 
she  was  in  Ridgefield,  but  she  believed  she  did  hear  of 
such  a  house  and  passed  it  with  her  grandfather, — a  big 
old  brown  house  at  the  end  of  a  lane. 

"Delicious!  The  very  place  for  us.  Write  at  once." 
Helen  urged,  and  her  mother  wrote  to  Mr.  Taylor  that 
morning,  engaging  rooms  for  herself,  daughter  and 
maid,  and  in  two  days'  time  the  postman  brought  her 
Uncle  Zacheus'  wonderful  production,  which  Helen  read 
aloud  with  peals  of  laughter  and  running  comments  on 
his  composition,  orthography  and  honesty.  "Perfectly 
rich,"  she  cried.  "Rivers  and  ponds  and  meadows  and 
hills  and  views  and  graves  a  hundred  years  old  and  a 
haunted  house  and  a  cellar  hole  where  a  garrison  stood, 


62  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

I  believe  I've  read  about  that,  haven't  I?  Alice  would 
know.  She's  up  in  history.  And  then  the  house ;  clean 
sheets, — think  of  it !  All  the  towels  we  want !  He  don't 
know  that  I  use  about  a  dozen  a  day.  Silver  forks,  solid, 
not  plated !  That  is  something  new  for  a  hotel.  Bread 
that  Dotty  makes,  and  washes  her  hands  every  time  she 
turns  round.  Good  for  the  bread;  bad  for  the  hands. 
Big  rooms,  with  a  rocking  chair  in  each  one.  Glad  of 
that.  You  won't  be  getting  mine.  No  real  suites.  He 
spelled  it  sweets.  Dear  old  man !  I  shall  fall  in  love 
with  him  if  he  doesn't  with  me.  Only  two  faucets,  and 
those  under  the  stairs.  Can  have  a  saloon  to  eat  in. 
Good!  That  comes  of  your  confusing  him  with  salon. 
Watched  with  your  grandfather,  and  helped  at  the  fu 
neral,  That  must  make  him  related  to  us.  Yes,  mother, 
sweets  or  no  sweets,  faucets  or  no  faucets,  v/e'll  go,  and 
I'll  write  and  tell  him  so." 

She  wrote  the  letter  which  Uncle  Zach  put  away  in 
his  hair  trunk,  and  after  it  was  gone  turned  suddenly 
to  her  mother  and  said:  "By  the  way,  now  is  your 
chance  to  carry  out  your  promise  to  Cousin  Alice.  You 
have  always  been  going  to  take  her  somewhere  with  us, 
and  have  never  done  it,  because  it  would  make  our  ex 
penses  heavier.  Ridgefield  is  cheap.  A  whole  week  will 
not  cost  much  more  than  one  day  sometimes  did  when 
we  had  the  best  rooms  in  the  hotel.  Let  me  invite  Alice 
to  go  with  us.  Just  think  how  poky  and  forlorn  her  life 
must  be  in  that  stuffy  little  schoolhouse  among  the 
mountains,  with  those  children  smelling  of  the  factory 
and  things.  Can  I  write  to  her?  She's  such  good  com 
pany  and  so  helpful  every  way." 

After  a  little  hesitancy  Mrs.  Tracy  consented,  and 
Helen  was  soon  dashing  off  the  following  letter : 


THE   TRACYS.  63 

"New  York,  July  —  18— . 
"Dear  Allie  :— 

"Here  we  are  home  again;  landed  five  days  ago,  and  I 
have  such  a  love  of  a  gown  for  you  in  some  of  my  trunks. 
Cream  colored,  china  silk,  with  puffings  of  lace  and 
ribbons  and  everything.  I  had  a  gloriously  good  time 
abroad.  Went  everywhere, — saw  everything, — was  told 
a  hundred  times  how  handsome  I  was  and  how  strange 
that  I  didn't  seem  to  know  it !  'The  one  beautiful  woman 
I  have  met  who  is  not  conscious  of  her  beauty,'  I  heard 
an  Englishman  say  to  mamma.  Oh !  oh !  oh !  As  if  I 
didn't  look  in  the  glass  every  time  I  pass  it  and  say  to 
the  face  I  see  there  'You  are  lovely,  but  never  give  any 
sign  that  you  know  it,  for  this  innocent  baby  way  suc 
ceeds  as  well  as  your  good  looks.  Not  know  it  indeed!' 
I  have  some  new  names  in  the  blue  book.  One  with  a 
big  interrogation  point.  'Walter  Prescott,  New  York  ?' 
That  is  the  way  it  reads.  His  is  the  2Oth  bqna  fide 
offer,  and  mamma  was  furious  when  I  refused  him.  Says 
I'll  go  through  the  woods  and  take  up  with  a  crooked 
stick.  Maybe  I  shall,  but  I  tell  you  what;  I  am  getting 
tired  of  seeing  men  turn  white  when  I  say  no,  and  fenc 
ing  to  keep  others  from  compelling  me  to  say  no.  I  am 
going  to  turn  over  a  new  leaf,  and  not  wink,  nor  smile, 
nor  try  to  get  any  one  to  look  at  me ;  and  after  a  while 
marry  Mr.  Prescott  and  lead  a  perfectly  domestic  life. 
He  neither  dances,  nor  smokes,  nor  drinks,  nor  drives 
fact  horses,  nor  likes  society  any  way.  Prefers  a  quiet 
home  life,  with  his  wife  and  his  books.  Is  a  great  reader. 
I  shall  have  to  take  up  a  course  of  study  with  you  if  I 
am  to  be  Mrs.  Prescott.  I  am  a  perfect  dunce  now  and 
hardly  know  who  discovered  America,  or  shouldn't  if 
I  hadn't  seen  Columbus'  statue  in  Genoa. 

"But  to  come  to  the  object  of  this  letter.     Did  you 


64  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

ever  hear  of  Ridgefield?  No?  Well,  that  shows  a  lack 
in  your  education.  It's  a  lovely  town,  famous  principally 
because  my  grandfather,  Gen.  Allen,  lived  and  died  and 
is  buried  there,  and  Zacheus  Taylor  watched  with  him 
the  night  he  died  and  keeps  the  Prospect  House,  a  per 
fectly  delicious  house,  with  all  the  towels  you  want,  and 
silver  forks  and  two  faucets  and  blooded  horses,  Paul 
and  Virginia,  all  of  which  and  more  is  set  forth  in  the 
letter  I  enclose  from  the  dear  old  man.  I  don't  care 
much  for  the  country, — the  real  article  I  mean, — with  its 
dusty  roads  and  horn  bugs  and  worms  and  stupid  people, 
aping  last  year's  fashions,  but  something  draws  me  to 
Ridgefield,  and  mamma  and  I  are  going  there  to  spend 
the  summer  and  rest  and  get  back  some  of  the  good 
looks  I  lost  being  so  gay  abroad  and  so  seasick  coming 
home.  And  you  are  to  go  with  us.  Mamma  says  so, 
and  I  am  writing  to  tell  you  to  meet  us  in  Springfield, 
July  — ,  in  the  afternoon.  No  dress  needed.  I  shall  not 
take  much,  and  if  there  should  be  a  quilting,  or  sewing 
society,  or  church  social  you'll  have  that  love  of  a  gown 
I  bought  for  you  in  Paris  and  which  I  shall  bring. 

"Only  think,  what  a  gorgeous  time  we'll  have,  just  our 
selves.  You  and  I,  and  not  a  man  to  bother.  There  may 
be  a  bartender  or  something,  I  presume  there  is,  but  he 
don't  count.  Nobody  to  dress  for,  or  pose  for,  or  keep  my 
self  always  with  the  same  angelic  expression.  No  need  of 
the  blue  book.  Guess  I  shall  leave  it  at  home  unless  you 
want  to  see  the  new  names  in  it.  One,  a  poor  insipid  lad, 
who  asked  me  point-blank  how  much  mamma  was  worth. 
I  told  him  500,000,  meaning  pennies,  but  he  understood  it 
dollars,  and  at  once  offered  me  his  title  in  exchange.  I 
laughed  in  his  face  and  he  looked  astonished." 

Here  Helen  was  interrupted  by  her  maid  bringing  her 


THE   TRACYS.  65 

a  letter  the  postman  had  just  left.  It  was  from  a  girl  friend 
living  in  Boston,  who  had  returned  from  abroad  in  the 
same  vessel.  After  the  usual  chitchat  of  girls  who  have 
seen  the  same  places  and  know  the  same  people,  she  wrote, 
"Boston  is  like  a  graveyard.  Everybody  out  of  town  and 
some  in  the  most  unheard-of  places.  By  the  way,  you  don't 
know  the  Masons,  so  their  whereabouts  has  no  interest 
for  you.  I  can't  endure  them,  they  are  so  stuck  up  and 
prim,  but  they  are  the  Masons  for  all  that,  and  their  do 
ings  of  importance.  Well,  they  have  gone  to  a  little  in 
land  town, — Ridgefield  is  the  name, — to  spend  the  sum 
mer,  and  I  dare  say  are  very  happy  there,  as  no  canaille 
can  brush  against  them,  and  Mrs.  Mason  will  not  be 
shocked  by  what  she  calls  second-class  in  young  people 
who  are  just  lively,  and  she  will  not  be  afraid  some  girl 
will  look  at  Craig.  Pity  you  never  had  a  chance  at  him." 

Helen  did  not  read  any  further  for  joy.  She  had  so 
longed  for  a  chance  at  Craig  and  now  she  was  to  have  it. 
Her  friend  did  not  say  that  he  was  at  the  Prospect  House, 
but  unquestionably  he  was.  At  all  events  he  was  in  the 
town,  which  was  not  like  Saratoga,  and  her  good  res 
olutions  melted  like  wax. 

Resuming  her  letter  to  Alice,  she  wrote : 

"I  broke  off  abruptly  to  read  a  letter  from  Belle  Sher 
man,  who  was  with  us  in  Europe  and  lives  in  Boston. 
And  what  do  you  think?  Craig  Mason  is  in  Ridgefield, 
presumably  at  the  Prospect  House,  and  I — well,  I  am  go 
ing  on  the  war  path  just  once  more  before  I  reform,  as  I 
intended  to  do.  You  remember  I  wrote  you  about  him 
last  summer  when  I  was  in  Saratoga.  He  was  the  only 
young  man  of  any  account  who  did  not  pay  me  some 
attention.  He  ignored  me,  and,  entre  nous,  I  mean  to 


66  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

pay  him  off  for  saying  I  was  not  his  style.  What  is  his 
style,  I  wonder?  If  I  only  knew  I  could  soon  adapt  my 
self  to  it.  You'll  have  to  find  out  and  coach  me.  You 
have  a  way  which  makes  people  show  themselves  to  you 
as  they  are,  while  with  me  there  is  always  something  held 
back,  as  if  we  were  playing  hide  and  seek.  Entre  nous 
again.  I  don't  know  about  Mr.  Prescott.  It  seems  as 
if  fate  were  leading  me  to  Ridgefield  and  Craig  Mason. 
He  is  a  most  desirable  parti,  and  mother  would  be  in  a 
state  of  beatitude  to  be  allied  with  the  Masons  of  Boston. 
Ah,  well,  nous  verrons.  How  Frenchy  I  am.  Bad  French, 
Celine,  my  maid,  would  say,  with  admirable  frankness. 

"Now,  remember,  I  rely  on  you  to  help  me  in  every  way 
with  this  Sphinx  until  I  can  aay  'Veni,  Vidi,  Vici.'  Latin, 
as  well  as  French.    I  am  rather  learned  after  all.    Write 
at  once  and  say  you  will  meet  us  in  Springfield. 
"Lovingly,  but  on  mischief  bent, 

"Your  cousin,  Helen." 

"P.  S.  I  shall  take  some  of  my  best  clothes,  and  you 
better  put  in  your  trunk  a  book  or  two  of  such  literature 
and  poetry  as  you  think  adapted  to  my  capacity  in  case 
the  Sphinx  proves  bookish  like  Mr.  Prescott. 

"Again  adieu, 

"Helen." 


ALICE.  67 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

ALICE. 

THE  hot  sun  of  a  July  afternoon  was  pouring  in  at  the 
west  windows  of  a  little  red  schoolhotise  among  the 
mountains  between  Springfield  and  Albany.  It  was  the 
last  day  of  the  term  and  as  was  the  custom  in  district 
schools  in  New  England  the  Committee  men  had  been  in 
to  see  what  progress  the  scholars  had  made  and  to  pro 
nounce  upon  it  at  the  close  of  the  exercises.  It  was  exam 
ination  day  and  looked  forward  to  with  as  much  interest 
and  anxiety  by  the  teacher  and  pupils  as  are  the  com 
mencements  in  larger  institutions.  To  the  red  schoolhouse 
among  the  mountains  had  come  this  afternoon  the  min 
ister,  the  doctor,  the  lawyer  with  several  other  visitors, 
parents  and  relatives  of  the  children  who  had  acquitted 
themselves  so  creditably  that  only  words  of  commendation 
were  spoken  by  the  lawyer  and  doctor  and  minister  when 
each  in  turn  made  remarks. 

Rocky  Point  was  to  be  congratulated  upon  having  se 
cured  the  services  of  so  competent  a  teacher  as  Miss  Tracy 
had  proved  herself  to  be,  the  lawyer  said,  and  the  doctor 
and  clergyman  acquiesced  in  his  opinion,  while  the  vis 
itors  bowed  their  approbation.  Then  a  prayer  was  said, 
"Shall  We  Meet  Beyond  the  River?"  was  sung,  and 
school  was  dismissed.  There  was  a  scramble  for  books 
and  dinner  pails  and  sunbonnets  and  caps,  and  the  chil 
dren  hurried  away,  glad  that  vacation  had  come,  with 
no  more  study  for  many  long  weeks.  The  minister  and 
doctor  and  lawyer  and  visitors  went  next  after  a  few 
complimentary  words  to  the  young  teacher,  and  the  nat 
ural  question  as  to  where  she  intended  to  pass  the  sum- 


68  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

mer.  She  might  go  to  Cooperstown  to  visit  a  friend,  she 
said,  but  more  likely  she  should  remain  at  home  and  help 
her  Aunt  Mary,  as  usual. 

"I  saw  among  the  arrivals  from  abroad  the  names  of 
your  aunt,  Mrs.  Freeman  Tracy,  and  her  daughter,  and 
thought  you  might  possibly  visit  them,"  one  of  the  ladies 
said. 

Alice  replied,  "I  have  no  expectation  of  visiting  them, 
and  I  hardly  think  they  will  stay  in  New  York  all  sum 
mer." 

The  ladies  bowed  and  went  out,  and  Alice  was  alone, 
tired  and  hot,  and  so  glad  her  first  term  of  teaching  was 
over  and  that  she  had  given  satisfaction.  Better  than  all 
was  the  fact  that  she  would  in  a  few  days  have  thirty-six 
dollars  of  her  own.  It  was  the  first  money  she  had  ever 
earned,  and  it  seemed  like  a  fortune  to  her.  Sitting  down 
upon  one  of  the  hard  benches  by  an  open  window  she 
began  to  plan  what  she  should  do  with  it.  Give  part  of  it 
to  Aunt  Mary  to  get  her  a  new  dress,  and  with  another 
part  buy  herself  some  boots  and  gloves.  Her  old  ones 
were  so  shabby,  and  she  was  very  fastidious  with  regard 
to  her  hands  and  feet,  if  she  were  only  a  little  country 
girl,  living  among  the  mountains  of  western  Massachu 
setts,  where  city  fashions  did  not  prevail  to  a  great  extent, 
except  as  some  ambitious  factory  girl  aped  them  so  far 
as  she  could.  Alice's  father,  George  Tracy,  had  been 
half-brother  to  Helen's  father,  Freeman  Tracy,  who  had 
inherited  his  large  fortune  from  his  mother.  George,  who 
was  ten  years  older  than  his  brother,  was  a  languid,  easy 
going,  handsome  man,  with  no  more  talent  or  inclination 
for  work  than  a  child.  Twice  Freeman,  who  was  very 
fond  of  him,  had  set  him  up  in  business,  with  the  result 
each  time  of  a  complete  failure. 

"No  use,  Free.    It  isn't  in  me  to  see  to  anything.    Bet- 


ALICE.  69 

ter  give  me  a  small  allowance,  if  you  want  to  do  any 
thing  for  such  a  shiftless  good-for-nothing  as  I  am,  and 
let  me  shirk  for  myself,"  George  said  to  his  brother,  who 
took  him  at  his  word  and  gave  him  not  a  small,  but  a 
liberal  allowance,  which  kept  him  quite  at  his  ease. 

It  had  been  Freeman's  intention  to  make  his  will  and 
leave  George  the  income  of  a  certain  sum,  but  death 
came  suddenly,  before  the  will  was  made,  and  there  was 
no  provision  for  George.  The  whole  of  Freeman's  large 
fortune  went  to  his  widow  and  infant  daughter  a  few 
months  old.  Between  George  and  his  sister-in-law  there 
did  not  exist  the  most  amicable  relations.  She  looked 
upon  him  as  a  dreaming  neer-do-weel,  through  whom 
her  husband  had  lost  a  great  deal  of  money.  Of  the  year 
ly  allowance  she  knew  nothing,  and  as  George  was  too 
proud  to  enlighten  her  he  found  himself  at  his  brother's 
death  without  money  and  with  no  means  of  support,  un 
less  he  went  to  work, — a  new  state  of  things  for  him,  as 
he  had  never  in  his  life  been  really  fatigued  from  any 
physical  exercise.  But  the  strain  had  come,  and  he  met 
it  by  hiring  as  a  clerk  in  a  cotton  mill  in  Rocky  Point, 
where  he  married  a  beautiful  young  girl,  who  died  when 
her  baby  was  four  weeks  old.  Her  home  had  always 
been  with  her  aunt  and  uncle,  Ephraim  and  Mary  Wood, 
plain,  old-fashioned  people,  with  hearts  larger  than  their 
means,  and  hands  ready  to  give  help  to  all  who  needed  it. 
They  were  very  fond  of  their  niece  and  very  proud  of  her 
alliance  with  George  Tracy,  whom  they  looked  upon  as 
a  prince  in  disguise.  A  poor  one,  it  is  true,  but  still 
a  prince,  and  they  gave  him  a  home  as  soon  as  he  was 
married,  and  when  his  young  wife  died  and  left  a  little 
girl,  whom  they  called  for  its  mother,  they  still  kept  him 
with  them  and  never  lost  their  high  opinion  of  him  as 
one  whom  it  was  an  honor  to  have  in  their  family.  Of 


70  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

her  father,  Alice  had  some  remembrance,  as  she  was 
nearly  five  years  old  when  he  died  suddenly,  as  his  broth 
er  had  done.  Tall,  well-dressed,  with  long,  white  hands, 
of  which  he  took  a  great  deal  of  care ;  always  looking  for 
a  seat  and  always  reading  when  he  found  one,  was  the 
picture  she  carried  of  him.  Of  her  mother's  personality 
she  knew  nothing,  except  what  she  heard  from  others, 
and  what  she  gathered  from  an  old-time  photograph  of 
a  young  girl  with  a  lovely  face  and  large,  beautiful  blue 
eyes,  with  a  laugh  in  them  which  the  bungling  photog 
rapher  had  not  been  able  to  spoil,  as  he  had  the  pose  of 
the  head  and  hands. 

When  George  died  Mr.  Wood  felt  it  incumbent  upon 
him  to  notify  Mrs.  Freeman  Tracy,  who  was  at  Rich 
field  Springs,  having  an  ideal  time,  she  told  Mrs.  Wood, 
rather  complainingly,  when  she  came  to  the  funeral  with 
her  daughter  Helen,  who  was  nearly  three  years  older 
than  Alice.  It  was  Helen's  first  experience  in  a  country 
farmhouse  like  the  Woods,  and  some  of  her  remarks 
on  what  she  saw  were  not  very  complimentary.  But 
Alice  was  too  young  to  resent  them,  or  understand.  She 
admired  her  cousin  greatly,  especially  her  bronze  boots, 
with  their  high,  French  heels. 

"I  wish  I  had  some  like  'em.  Do  they  cost  more  than 
a  dollar?"  she  said,  with  a  rueful  glance  at  her  own 
coarser  shoes. 

"A  dollar !  I  guess  they  do.  Forty  or  fifty  dollars  at 
least !"  Helen  replied,  at  random,  and  without  the  slight 
est  idea  of  the  real  cost  of  them  or  anything  else. 

Stooping  down,  she  unbuttoned  her  boots  in  a  trice, 
and,  removing  Alice's  shoes,  put  her  own  upon  a  pair  of 
feet  much  too  short  for  them,  for  Alice  was  small  for  her 
years  and  Helen  was  large. 

"Why,  they  are  too  big.    Your  feet  wobble  awfully  in 


ALICE.  71 

them,"  Helen  said,  "but  I'll  tell  you  what  to  do.  Put 
some  cotton  in  'em.  Our  maid  Susan  does,  and  mamma 
did  once  for  me  when  my  boots  were  too  long.  Find 
some,  and  I'll  show  you." 

The  cotton  was  found  and  the  boots  stuffed  and  pro 
nounced  a  splendid  fit,  as  Helen  proceeded  to  button 
them.  Suddenly  it  occurred  to  her  that  she  had  nothing 
to  wear  herself,  as  she  couldn't  begin  to  get  her  foot  into 
Alice's  shoe.  With  a  jerk  the  boots  came  off,  and,  to 
Alice's  wondering  looks,  she  said,  "I  must  not  give  'em 
to  you,  for  I  can't  go  in  my  stocking  feet  to  New  York, 
but  I'll  have  mamma  send  you  some,  if  you  can't  buy  'em. 
You  are  real  poor,  ain't  you  ?" 

Alice  didn't  know  whether  she  were  poor  or  not.  She 
only  knew  she  wanted  boots  like  these  being  taken  from 
her  feet  and  transferred  to  Helen's,  and  two  great  tears 
rolled  down  her  cheeks  as  she  resumed  her  own  despised 
shoes. 

"Don't  cry,"  Helen  said,  brusquely.  "I'll  send  you 
some  boots  and  a  lot  of  things." 

She  kept  her  word,  and  from  time  to  time  boots  and 
other  articles  of  dress, — some  new  and  some  second 
hand,  but  quite  as  good  as  new,  when  Mrs.  Wood's  skill 
ful  fingers  had  made  them  over, — found  their  way  to  the 
farmhouse,  and  little  Alice  Tracy  was  for  years  the  best- 
dressed  child  in  Rocky  Point.  As  the  children  grew 
older  and  saw  each  other  on  the  very  rare  intervals  when 
Mrs.  Tracy  stopped  for  a  day  at  Rocky  Point,  they  be 
came  very  fond  of  each  other,  and  Helen,  who  inherited 
her  father's  generous  nature,  was  often  troubled  because 
Alice  was  not  wealthy  like  herself.  All  that  she  could 
make  her  mother  do  for  her  she  did,  and  it  was  owing  to 
her  influence  that  when  Alice  was  fifteen  she  was  placed 
in  a  boarding  school  in  Albany  with  her  cousin,  who 


•J2  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

did  not  care  for  books  and  who  managed  to  elude  her 
teachers  and  give  more  spreads  and  have  more  larks  and 
still  retain  her  good  standing  than  any  pupil  in  school. 
At  the  end  of  the  year  she  left,  a  fully  fledged  young 
lady,  "with  more  beaux  on  her  string,"  her  companions 
said,  than  they  all  had  together. 

Alice  stayed  two  years  longer,  and,  at  eighteen,  went 
back  to  Rocky  Point,  with  somewhat  different  views  of 
the  world  from  what  she  had  when  she  left  it.  In  one 
point,  however,  she  was  unchanged,  and  that  was  her 
love  for  the  old  couple,  Uncle  Ephraim  and  Aunt  Mary, 
who  had  been  so  kind  to  her.  If  the  homely  ways  and 
duties  of  the  farm  grated  upon  her  she  kept  it  to  herself, 
and  was  the  same  sweet,  lovable,  sunny-tempered  girl 
she  had  always  been,  putting  her  young  strength  to  the 
wheel  when  the  strain  of  work  was  hardest,  and  making 
the  labor  easier  by  half  by  the  way  with  which  she 
planned  and  executed  it. 

"Where  does  that  girl  get  her  vim  and  go-ahead  ?"  the 
neighbors  used  to  say,  remembering  her  mother's  frail 
constitution  and  her  indolent  and  easy-going  father. 

Alice  knew  all  about  him.  She  had  overheard  a  farm 
hand  telling  another  of  his  laziness,  his  selfishness  and 
love  of  ease  and  pride,  which  sometimes  rebelled  against 
his  plain  surroundings  and  the  people  of  the  town,  the 
mill-hands,  the  shoemakers  and  machinists  who  consti 
tuted  a  large  proportion  of  the  inhabitants  of  Rocky 
Point. 

"I  know  now  where  I  got  that  little  mean  thread  in 
my  nature.  I  am  naturally  lazy,  and  selfish,  and  proud, 
and  sometimes  grind  my  teeth  hard  at  what  seems  com 
mon  and  vulgar.  But  I'll  kill  it  dead,"  she  said,  with  a 
stamp  of  her  foot.  "I'll  do  what  my  hands  find  to  do 


ALICE.  73 

without  shrinking,  and  not  mind  the  rough  men  whom 
Uncle  Ephraim  has  on  his  farm." 

On  two  or  three  occasions  she  had  spent  a  month  in 
New  York  in  Mrs.  Tracy's  elegant  house,  and  although 
she  did  not  go  a  great  deal  into  society,  she  went  enough 
to  get  a  taste  for  something  different  from  her  life  at  home. 
But  she  resolutely  set  her  face  against  any  repinings 
which  might  show  on  the  surface,  and  was  as  bright  and 
cheerful  and  sunny  as  if  the  rambling  old  farmhouse,  with 
its  low  ceilings,  its  square  beams  in  the  corners  of  the 
rooms,  and  its  iron  door  latches  were  a  palatial  residence 
and  she  the  queen ;  and,  in  a  way,  she  was  queen  of  the 
place,  for  the  old  couple  loved  her  as  if  she  had  been 
their  own  child.  Nothing  was  too  good  for  her,  and  no 
sacrifice  they  could  make  too  great  if  it  made  her  hap 
pier.  In  return  for  this  she  lavished  upon  them  all  the 
love  of  her  ardent  nature,  and  gave  to  them  a  helpful 
ness  and  thoughtfulness  beyond  her  years. 

Just  before  going  to  Europe  Helen  spent  a  week  at  the 
farmhouse,  declaring  herself  ennuied  to  death  with  the 
dulness. 

"I  like  being  with  you,  of  course,"  she  said  to  Alice. 
"You  rest  me  and  bring  out  the  best  there  is  in  me,  and 
when  I  see  you  washing  those  dreadful  dinner  dishes  and 
skimming  the  milk  and  pouring  tea  and  coffee  for  those 
sweaty  men  who  come  to  the  table  in  their  shirt  sleeves, 
I  hate  myself  for  the  useless  piece  of  pottery  I  am,  and 
feel  tempted  to  try  the  dairy  maid  business  like  you.  If 
I  had  a  little  chalet  and  a  petit  Trianon  like  Marie  An 
toinette  I'd  do  it.  Truly,  Alice,  I  don't  see  how  you  en 
dure  it  as  you  do,  with  nothing  livelier  to  go  to  than  a 
church  social,  where  they  play  kissing  games,  but  won't 
let  you  dance,  because  it  is  wicked,  and  not  a  single  man 


74 


THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 


to  flirt  with.     I  am  positively  getting  rusty  for  some 
male  to  wink  at !" 

Alice  laughed  and  replied,  "I  believe  you'd  flirt  with 
the  undertaker  if  you  could  get  your  eyes  on  him.  Why, 
you  have  winked  at  every  sweaty  man  on  the  farm,  and 
there  isn't  one  of  them  who  doesn't  brighten  up  the 
minute  you  appear  in  your  stunning  gowns,  with  your 
cheery  good-morning.  There  are  men  enough  to  flirt 
with,  but  not  exactly  your  kind." 

"Nor  yours,  either,"  Helen  rejoined.  "Honestly,  how 
are  you  ever  to  be  married,  unless  I  send  you  some  of  my 
cast-offs  ?" 

"Which  one  ?"  Alice  asked,  and  Helen  replied,  "I  really 
don't  know,  there's  -  — ,"  so  and  so,  repeating  their 
names;  "but,  I  dare  say,  whichever  one  I  made  over  to 
you  I  should  want  back  again.  I  wrote  you  from  Sara 
toga  about  Craig  Mason,  who  didn't  care  to  call  upon 
me.  Do  you  know,  I'm  dying  to  see  him.  Something 
tells  me  you  would  suit  him  to  a  dot,  but  it  can't  be  till 
I've  met  him  in  fair  conflict  and  been  defeated." 

This  conversation  took  place  the  day  before  Helen  left 
Rocky  Point,  and  a  week  later  she  sailed  for  Europe, 
leaving  Alice  very  lonely  with  the  ocean  between  her 
and  the  cousin  to  whom  she  was  greatly  attached.  The 
next  April  she  was  offered  the  spring  term  in  the  district 
school  at  three  dollars  a  week  and  board  herself.  It  was 
something  to  do, — something  to  earn, — and  she  took  the 
school,  and  made  believe  she  liked  it,  although  Helen 
herself  could  scarcely  have  rebelled  more  against  it  than 
she  did,  mentally,  or  have  been  more  relieved  than  she 
was  when  the  last  day  came  and  she  was  released  from 
the  daily  routine  which  had  been  so  irksome  to  her.  She 
was  to  take  it  up  again  in  the  autumn,  it  was  true,  but 
for  ten  weeks  she  was  free  to  do  what  she  liked. 


ALICE.  75- 

Skimming  the  milk  and  washing  the  dreadful  dinner 
dishes  and  pouring  coffee  for  sweaty  men  she  preferred 
to  school  teaching,  if  it  were  not  that  the  latter  brought 
her  money  of  her  own.  "Thirty-six  dollars,"  she  re 
peated,  as  she  fanned  herself  with  the  cover  of  a  spelling 
book.  "What  shall  I  do  with  it  all?  Ten  shall  go  tq 
Aunt  Mary ;  five  to  Uncle  Ephraim,  and  I  really  think  I 
need  ten  more  for  gloves  and  boots  and  things.  Twenty- 
five  dollars  in  all — oh  my !"  and  she  stopped,  appalled  at 
the  thought  that  there  were  only  eleven  dollars  left  for  the 
trip  to  Cooperstown,  she  was  so  anxious  to  take.  It 
couldn't  be  done.  She  must  stay  at  home,  as  she  had  the 
previous  summer,  and  she  wanted  so  much  to  get  in 
touch  with  the  world  as  she  had  known  it  in  Albany, 
and  the  glimpses  she  had  had  of  it  in  New  York,  if  it 
were  only  for  a  week.  It  seemed  hard,  and  for  a  moment 
her  bright  spirits  were  clouded,  and  there  were  tears  in 
her  eyes,  which  she  wiped  away  quickly  as  she  heard  a 
step  and  a  whistle  by  the  door.  It  was  a  young  lad,  one 
of  her  scholars,  who  came  in  without  at  first  seeing  her. 
Then,  with  a  start,  he  said,  "Oh,  Miss  Tracy,  you  here? 
I  left  my  jography  and  come  in  to  get  it.  I  was  goin'  out 
to  your  house.  I've  been  to  the  office  and  they  gin  me  a 
letter  for  you,  'cause  it  says  on  it  Tn  Haste.'  Here  'tis." 

Alice  knew  before  she  took  the  letter  that  it  must  be 
from  Helen,  who  was  very  apt  to  put  "In  Haste,"  or, 
"Please  forward,"  on  her  letters,  with  a  belief  that  it 
expedited  their  delivery,  as  it  had  in  this  instance.  The 
boy  found  his  geography  and  departed,  leaving  Alice 
again  alone.  Tearing  open  the  letter  she  read  it  rapidly, 
and  felt  that  the  aspect  of  everything  had  changed.  Even 
the  weather  was  not  so  oppressive  as  it  had  been.  She 
was  going  somewhere.  It  was  the  country,  to  be  sure, 
but  she  liked  the  country  and  Ridgefield  was  different 


76  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

from  Rocky  Point.  Then  she  would  be  with  Helen,  of 
whom  she  was  very  fond.  She  understood  her,  and 
knew  all  about  her  flirtations  and  the  blue  book,  and 
what  names  were  in  it.  She  had  written  some  of  them 
herself  at  Helen's  request,  because  her  handwriting  was 
better  than  her  cousin's.  She  had  heard  of  Craig  Mason, 
and  the  fact  that  he  did  not  care  for  her  cousin's  ac 
quaintance  had  awakened  her  own  interest  in  him  and  she 
was  nearly  as  pleased  as  Helen  herself  for  a  chance  to 
meet  him.  That  she  could  be  preferred  to  Helen  never  en 
tered  her  mind.  She  was  simply  glad  to  be  with  her  and 
ready  to  do  her  any  service  in  her  power. 

When  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood  heard  of  Helen's  wish  for 
Alice  to  accompany  her  to  Ridgefield  they  at  once  urged 
her  going,  and  refused  to  take  the  money  offered  them 
by  the  generous  girl. 

"Keep  it  for  yourself,"  Mrs.  Wood  said.  "Ridgefield 
may  not  be  a  fashionable  place,  but  you  will  see  new  peo 
ple  and  want  new  things." 

"No  one  will  know  what  I  wear  when  Helen  is  with 
me,"  Alice  said,  but  she  bought  herself  one  or  two  inex 
pensive  dresses,  freshened  up  others  with  ribbons  and 
ruches,  retrimmed  her  hat,  paid  five  dollars  for  a  pair  of 
boots,  and  two  for  a  pair  of  gloves, — the  greatest  ex 
travagance  she  had  ever  committed,  and  one  which  kept 
her  awake  for  hours  as  she  reflected  that  cheaper  ones 
would  have  answered  every  purpose  and  left  something 
for  Aunt  Mary. 

The  good  woman,  however,  insisted  that  she  did  not 
need  it,  and,  unknown  to  Alice,  slipped  a  dollar  of  her 
egg  money  into  the  young  girl's  purse  on  the  morning 
when  she  started  for  Springfield  where  she  was  to  meet . 
her  aunt  and  cousin.    The  New  York  train  was  late  and 


ALICE.  77 

when  it  came  in  Helen  was  on  the  platform  motioning 
frantically  to  Alice  to  hurry  and  come  on  board. 

"Mamma  is  in  the  parlor  car.  We  were  both  there, 
but  as  there  is  no  vacant  chair  I'm  coming  with  you 
where  we  can  sit  together  and  talk.  I've  so  much  to  tell 
you,"  she  said,  as  she  followed  Alice  into  the  common 
car,  and  as  soon  as  the  train  started  she  was  under  full 
headway,  telling  where  she  had  been,  what  and  whom 
she  had  seen,  and  what  she  proposed  to  do  and  expected 
Alice  to  do.  "You  are  looking  lovely  in  that  grey 
gown  which  I  know  is  made  over,  but  is  quite  up-to-date, 
and  I  would  not  be  surprised  if  you  eclipsed  me,"  she 
said ;  "but  if  Craig  Mason  is  there,  hands  off  till  I  have 
had  my  try  with  his  royal  highness.  Oh,  mercy!"  and 
she  gave  a  cry  of  alarm  as  a  flash  of  sharp  lightning  lit 
up  the  darkening  sky,,  followed  by  a  terrific  peal  of 
thunder. 

The  storm  had  burst  upon  them  in  its  fury,  and  be 
tween  the  roar  of  the  thunder  and  the  dashing  of  the 
rain  against  the  windows,  Alice  could  hear  but  little 
more  that  Helen  said.  She  caught  Craig  Mason's  name 
two  or  three  times  and  knew  he  was  the  theme  of  con- 
•versation  as  the  train  sped  on,  and  finally  drew  up  at 
Ridgefield  station,  where  it  only  stopped  when  it  had 
New  York  passengers. 

"Oh,  what  shall  we  do?"  Helen  cried,  drawing  back 
in  dismay  from  the  rain  which  came  driving  in  at  the 
door. 

"Open  you  umbrella  and  go  on,"  Alice  said. 

Helen  obeyed,  but  her  flimsy  parasol  was  turned  in 
side  eut  as  she  sprang  from  the  car,  not  to  the  ground, 
but  into  somebody's  arms,  she  did  not  know  whose. 
They  were  very  strong  and  held  her  fast  while  they  held 
her,  which  was  only  an  instant,  for  there  was  her  mother 


78  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

uttering  cries  of  dismay  at  the  wetting  she  was  getting. 
Dropping  Helen,  Mark  took  her  mother  and  set  her 
down  upon  the  platform,  while  Alice  helped  herself.  Her 
alpaca  umbrella  did  not  turn  inside  out,  but  protected 
her  and  her  cousin,  while  Mark  held  another  over  her 
aunt  as  they  ran  to  the  carriage,  into  which  Mrs.  Tracy 
sank  exhausted,  blaming  somebody,  she  did  not  know 
whom,  for  the  storm  and  her  discomfort  generally. 

"You  are  not  going  to  leave  us?  The  horses  might 
start,"  she  cried  as  she  saw  Mark  turn  again  toward 
the  station. 

"The  horses  are  safe,  madam,  and  there  is  still  another 
of  your  party.  Had  you  forgotten  her  ?"  he  said,  as  he 
went  after  Celine,  the  maid,  who  was  drenched  to  the 
skin  and  struggling  with  two  or  three  satchels  and  wraps. 

"Oh,  must  she  come  in  here?    Is  there  no  other  car 
riage?"  Mrs.  Tracy  said,  as  Mark  put  the  half-drowned 
girl  in  beside  her  and  shut  the  door,  saying,  "There  is  no 
conveyance  but  this,  except  the  van  for  the  baggage 
She  surely  cannot  go  in  there." 

"I  feel  as  if  I  were  taking  a  bath,"  the  unhappy  lady 
moaned,  as  they  started  up  the  hill,  while  Helen,  true  to 
her  nature,  said,  "That  man  speaks  like  a  gentleman.  I 
wonder  who  he  is." 


CHAPTER  IX. 

WAITING   FOR   TOOTHER   ONE. 

THE  morning  following  the  arrival  of  the  Tracys  was 
bright  and  beautiful  as  summer  mornings  are  apt  to  be 
after  a  heavy  rain.  There  was  no  sign  of  the  storm  which 
had  swept  so  fiercely  over  the  hills  the  previous  night 


WAITING  FOR  T'OTHER  ONE.  79 

except  in  the  delicious  coolness  of  the  air,  the  muddy 
street  and  the  few  pools  of  water  still  standing  upon  the 
walk.  Craig,  who  was  never  a  very  good  sleeper,  had 
heard  every  sound  in  the  usually  quiet  house.  It  had  been 
nine  o'clock  before  the  Tracys  had  divested  themselves  of 
their  wet  garments  and  were  ready  for  their  supper, 
which,  in  spite  of  Mrs.  Taylor's  protestations  that  every 
thing  was  spoiled,  they  enjoyed  immensely. 

Helen  was  in  high  spirits  and  knew  she  was  going  to 
enjoy  herself,  everything  was  so  funny  and  clean.  She 
had  made  friends  with  Mrs.  Taylor  by  praising  her  sup 
per,  and  won  Uncle  Zacheus'  heart  by  looking  into  his 
face  with  her  beautiful  eyes  as  she  squeezed  his  hand  and 
said,  "My  dear  good  man,  you  don't  know  how  glad  I 
am  to  be  here." 

"He  don't  know  whether  he's  on  foot  or  on  horseback, 
that  girl  has  so  upset  him,"  Mrs.  Taylor  said,  as  she 
hurried  from  the  salon  to  the  kitchen,  and  the  kitchen  to 
the  salon,  occasionally  administering  a  sharp  reproof  to 
Jeff,  who  was  dodging  round  corners,  and  again  whisper 
ing  to  Sarah,  the  waitress,  to  keep  her  wits  about  her  snd 
be  sure  and  pass  things  to  the  left  instead  of  the  right. 

Craig's  room  was  in  the  north  hall,  which  communi 
cated  with  the  west  at  right  angles,  but  he  could  hear  the 
clatter  of  feet  on  the  stairs,  the  sound  of  talking  and 
laughter  in  the  hall,  the  running  of  water  in  the  bath 
room,  until  he  began  to  wonder  if  they  would  empty  the 
reservoir  and  leave  nothing  for  his  morning  bath.  There 
were  calls  for  Celine  to  open  a  trunk,  or  bring  a  bag,  or 
a  wrap  left  below,  and  then  at  last  the  final  good-nights 
were  said,  the  doors  shut  and  quiet  reigned  in  the  house. 

"I  can't  imagine  why  I  am  so  restless  when  I  have  been 
in  so  many  noisy  hotels  and  never  minded  them,"  Craig 
thought  as  he  stepped  out  of  bed  to  see  what  time  it  was. 


8o  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"Only  eleven,  I  thought  it  must  be  midnight,"  he  said, 
going  to  the  window  and  looking  out  into  the  night. 

The  rain  was  over,  the  stars  were  coming  out,  and  the 
moon  was  scudding  between  the  few  misty  clouds  still 
hovering  in  the  sky.  From  below  he  caught  the  odor  of 
a  cigar  and  heard  a  man's  tread  on  the  piazza.  It  was 
Mark  walking  up  and  down  as  if  he,  too,  were  restless  and 
could  not  sleep.  The  sight  of  him  brought  back  the  story 
heard  from  Uncle  Zacheus  that  morning,  and  while  re 
calling  its  details  Craig,  who  had  gone  back  to  bed,  fell 
asleep  and  dreamed  that  'Tina  came  to  him  in  her  white 
dress  and  blue  ribbons,  with  the  gold  beads  around  her 
neck,  which  Mr.  Taylor  had  said  she  wore  on  the  morn 
ing  when  she  left  home  for  the  prison.  She  had  a  sweet, 
innocent  face  for  which  many  a  man  would  peril  his  life, 
Craig  thought,  as  he  awoke  with  a  start  to  hear  a  robin 
singing  outside  his  window  and  to  see  a  sunbeam  on  the 
wall  above  his  head.  It  was  nearly  six  o'clock, — later  than 
he  usually  slept, — for  he  was  an  early  riser.  Dressing 
himself,  he  went  to  the  dining-room  and  breakfasted 
alone.  Everything  was  quiet  in  the  west  wing  and  he 
saw  no  signs  of  the  Tracys,  except  a  big  Saratoga  trunk 
in  the  hall  waiting  to  be  taken  upstairs,  and  a  smart- 
looking  maid,  in  white  cap  and  apron,  carrying  a  tray 
from  the  kitchen  with  dishes  upon  it.  "One  of  the  ladies 
breakfasts  in  her  room, — Mrs.  Tracy,  probably,"  he 
thought,  as  he  sauntered  into  the  office  and  turned  the 
leaves  of  the  register,  finding  the  names :  "Mrs.  Free 
man  A.  Tracy,  New  York  city;  Miss  Helen  A.  Tracy, 
New  York  city ;  Miss  Alice  Tracy,  Rocky  Point,  Mass." 

The  handwriting  was  very  plain  and  Craig  studied  it 
for  a  moment,  while  Uncle  Zacheus,  who  was  present 
and  still  under  the  spell  of  Helen's  eyes  and  smiles,  said 
to  him,  "Writes  a  good  fist ;  plain  as  copper-plate,  and 


WAITING   FOR   T'OTHER   ONE.  8 1 

she's  a  daisy,  too,  but  not  up  to  t'other  one.  Wait  till 
you  see  her." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  Craig  asked.  "Which  is  't'oth 
er  one,'  and  which  is  the  daisy?" 

"Why,  t'other  one  is — t'other  one,  and  the  daisy's 
gone  down  to  the  river  with  Jeff  after  pond  lilies,"  Uncle 
Zach  replied. 

"Gone  to  the  river  with  Jeff?"  Craig  repeated,  and 
Uncle  Zach  answered,  "Yes,  sir.  She  was  up  with  the 
sun.  Wrote  the  names;  her's  is  the  last  one;  and  then 
went  off  with  Jeff,  holdin'  up  her  white  skirts  and  show- 
in'  her  trim  boots  and  ankles  just  like  what  Dot's  was 
once  when  she  was  slimmer." 

Craig  did  not  ask  any  more  about  the  daisy.  He  felt 
sure  it  was  Alice,  the  cousin,  from  Rocky  Point,  of 
which  place  he  had  never  heard.  He  was  not  as  much 
interested  in  her  as  he  was  in  the  't'other  one,'  who  occu 
pied  more  of  his  thoughts  than  he  would  like  to  confess. 
He  remembered  his  prejudice  against  her  as  a  heartless 
coquette,  and  his  declining  to  call  upon  her  when  asked 
to  do  so  in  Saratoga.  But  she  was  here  in  the  same 
house  with  him  and  it  was  incumbent  upon  him  as  a 
gentleman  to  treat  her  with  some  attention.  She  might 
not  be  as  bad  as  she  was  painted ;  at  all  events,  he  would 
like  to  see  her,  and  he  had  found  himself  taking  more 
pains  than  usual  with  his  toilet.  He  was  always  fault 
lessly  neat  in  his  person  and  attire,  especially  in  the 
matter  of  collars  and  cuffs,  and  this  morning  he  had 
tried  and  discarded  two  or  three  pairs,  and  as  many 
neckties,  before  he  was  satisfied  that  his  tout-ensemble 
was  all  that  could  be  expected  in  a  country  tavern.  He 
had  looked  for  Jeff  to  give  an  extra  polish  to  his  shoes, 
but  not  finding  him,  had  put  on  a  pair  of  tans,  and  felt 
himself  quite  au  fait  and  ready  to  cope  with  the  young 


lady  who,  rumor  said,  had  lured  so  many  men  to  her 
feet  only  to  be  refused.  He  had  no  intention  of  follow 
ing  their  example.  He  expected  to  amuse  himself  and 
be  relieved  from  the  ennui  which  was  beginning  to  affect 
him  in  the  quiet  place. 

As  he  was  leaving  the  office  the  maid  came  in  to  drop 
a  postal  in  the  box.  She  was  a  trim  little  black-eyed 
French  girl,  who,  in  her  bright  plaid  dress,  high-heeled 
slippers  and  red  stockings,  looked  very  pretty  and  pict 
uresque. 

"Good  mornin',  Miss — er — What  is  your  name,"  was 
Uncle  Zacheus'  salutation. 

"Celine,  monsieur,"  was  the  girl's  reply. 

"Oh,  yes ;  to  be  sure.  Mooseer,  I  think  you  said.  I 
didn't  quite  catch  it.  Uncommon  name.  Miss  Mooseer, 
this  is  Mr.  Craig  Mason  from  Boston.  Mr.  Mason,  Miss 
Mooseer,  I  hope  you'll  be  good  friends,"  and  Uncle  Zach 
eus  waved  his  hand  in  a  friendly  way  from  one  to  the 
other. 

Craig  was  too  much  of  a  gentleman  to  laugh,  but 
there  was  a  gleam  of  merriment  in  his  eyes  as  he  bowed 
to  the  girl,  and  an  answering  gleam  in  hers  as  she  curt 
sied  and  said,  "Bon  Jour,  monsieur,"  and  hurried  away. 

"What  did  she  say  ?"  Uncle  Zacheus  asked,  and  Craig 
replied,  "She  wished  me  good  morning,  in  French." 

"Oh,  yes;  wall,  I  don't  understand  French  very  well. 
Pretty  little  filly,  but  you  or'to  see  t'other  one,"  was 
Uncle  Zach's  response,  as  Craig  left  the  office,  thinking, 
"I've  been  introduced  to  the  maid,  and  now  I'd  like  to 
see  her  mistress." 

As  he  passed  the  door  of  the  salon  he  heard  the  rattling 
of  dishes  and  murmur  of  voices,  one  very  sweet  and  mu 
sical  anc?  full  of  laughter,  the  other  so  low  he  could 
scarcely  distinguish  it.  Going  to  the  north  piazza  he  sat 


ALICE  AND   JEFF.  83 

down  in  his  accustomed  chair  to  wait  developments. 
"They  will  certainly  make  the  tour  of  the  piazzas  and 
come  this  way  after  breakfast,"  he  thought,  and  by  they 
he  had  no  reference  to  the  one  Uncle  Zacheus  had  called 
a  daisy.  She  was  scarcely  in  his  mind  at  all.  He  was 
waiting  for  t'other  one. 


CHAPTER  X. 

ALICE  AND  JEFF. 

LIKE  Craig  Mason,  Alice  was  an  early  riser.  The 
dewy  morning  in  summer  was  to  her  the  best  part  of  the 
day.  She  had  slept  well,  and  before  the  village  clock 
struck  five  she  was  up  and  dressed.  Helen,  whose  room 
adjoined  hers,  heard  her  moving  about  and  called  softly 
to  her. 

"What  is  it?"  Alice  asked,  going  to  her,  and  Helen  an 
swered,  sleepily,  "Are  you  up  so  soon?  It  seems  to  me 
I've  only  just  got  into  bed.  Open  the  blind,  please,  and 
let  in  some  air  and  light.  How  pretty  and  fresh  you  look," 
she  continued,  as  Alice  opened  the  blind  and  came  to 
the  bedside.  "That  gown  is  so  becoming,  and  I  don't 
suppose  it  cost  more  than  fifty  cents  a  yard." 

"Twenty-five,"  Alice  interposed,  and  Helen  went  on, 
"Well,  it  is  a  heap  prettier  than  my  Paris  gowns,  all  fuss 
and  feathers.  You  are  going  out?" 

"Yes ;  to  see  what  the  place  is  like,  and  report." 

"That's  right.  Find  out  if  Craig  Mason  is  here.  I  am 
awfully  tired  and  don't  believe  I  shall  get  up  for  ever  so 
long.  If  he  is  here  you  will  see  him  and  tell  me  what 
manner  of  man  he  is ;  what  he  likes  and  dislikes,  so  I  can 


g4  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

like  and  dislike  the  same.  I  don't  know  why,  but  I  fancy 
he  may  be  bookish.  Did  you  bring  Tenryson  ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  English  Literature?" 

"Yes." 

"Whose?" 

"Taine's." 

"All  right.  I  guess  I  can  master  enough  of  him  to 
talk  about.  Won't  you  bring  me  Tennyson  before  you 
go?  I  may  look  him  over  a  little.  It  is  well  to  have  a 
favorite  poet,  and  he'll  do  as  well  as  any  body.  I  know 
about  that  poem,  'Why  don't  you  speak  for  yourself, 
John,'  and  should  do  just  as  Priscilla  did.  Wasn't  that 
her  name?  and  was  it  Whittier  who  wrote  it,  or  Long 
fellow?" 

"Longfellow,"  Alice  answered,  as  she  went  for  Ten 
nyson's  poems. 

"Find  the  'May  Queen,'  and  put  the  book  on  the  bed," 
Helen  said. 

Alice  did  so,  and  started  to  leave  the  room,  when  her 
cousin  called  her  back  and  whispered  very  low,  as  if 
.afraid  the  walls  might  hear,  "I  want  to  know  who  that 
tall  man  is  who  carried  me  in  his  arms  through  the  rain, 
and  spoke  so  like  a  gentleman.  I  can't  get  him  out  of 
my  mind.  He  held  me  so  delicately,  as  if  it  were  a  pleas 
ure,  but  one  for  which  he  ought  to  apologize." 

Alice  did  not  wait  for  any  more  directions,  but  passed 
downstairs  to  the  office,  where  she  registered  their  names, 
and  then  stepped  out  upon  the  piazza  just  as  Jeff  ap 
peared  with  a  large  basket  on  his  arm. 

"Hallo,  Jeff;  where  you  goin'?"  Uncle  Zach  asked, 
and  Jeff  replied,  "To  the  river  after  pond  lilies."  , 

"Oh,"  Alice  said,  "pond  lilies  and  the  river.  Is  it  far? 
Can  I  go?" 


ALICE   AND   JEFF.  8$ 

She  spoke  to  Jeff,  who  replied,  "Not  very  far  if  we  go 
acrost  the  lots  through  the  wet  grass,  but  you'll  have  to 
hold  up  your  gown." 

At  this  point  Uncle  Zacheus,  who  was  famous  for  in 
troducing  people,  came  up  and  said,  "Miss  Tracy,  this 
is  Jefferson  Wilkes,  our  chore  boy.  We  let  him  get  the 
lilies  and  sell  'em  for  a  penny  apiece.  'Taint  far  to  the 
riv^r,  but  pretty  wet  for  them  boots ;  bran'  new,  ain't 
they?"  and  he  glanced  admiringly  at  Alice's  five-dollar 
boots,  worn  that  morning  for  the  first  time. 

"Yes ;  quite  new,  and  I  can't  afford  to  spoil  them," 
Alice  said.  "Wait,  Jefferson,  till  I  change  them." 

She  ran  up  to  her  room,  put  on  her  second-best  boots 
and  rubbers  and  was  soon  off  with  Jeff,  holding  her 
skirts  above  her  ankles,  while  Uncle  Zacheus  looked 
admiringly  after  her.  Jeff  was  very  proud  and  attentive, 
and  led  her  through  the  driest  places  and  helped  her 
over  the  stone  wall  and  into  the  boat,  asking  if  she  were 
at  all  afraid. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  she  said.  "I  know  how  to  row, 
and  if  I  didn't  I  feel  sure  of  you,"  and  she  beamed  upon 
him  a  smile  so  bright  that  if  he  had  been  on  the  land  he 
would  at  once  have  stood  upon  his  head,  his  favorite 
way  of  showing  his  delight. 

He  knew  that  one  of  the  young  ladies  was  very 
wealthy,  but  did  not  know  which  one  it  was  sitting  with 
him  and  helping  him  with  the  boat  when  it  got  entangled 
among  the  lily  pads.  At  last,  as  his  admiration  in 
creased,  he  asked  abruptly,  "Be  you  the  rich  Miss  Tracy, 
with  such  piles  of  money?"  , 

Alice  laughed  and  answered  him,  "Oh,  no.  I  am  the 
poor  Miss  Tracy  and  teach  school  among  the  mountains." 

"Golly !  I  thought  you's  the  rich  one,  you're  so- 
kinder — I  don't  know  what,"  Jeff  said. 


gg  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

School-teachers,  as  a  rule,  were  not  great  favorites 
with  him,  but  this  one  must  be  different  from  those  he 
had  known.  Steering  the  boat  to  a  shaded  place  where 
a  birch  tree  drooped  over  the  water  he  began  to  pull  in 
the  lilies  which  were  very  thick  just  there,  and  finally 
said,  "Did  you  have  boys  in  your  school;  boys  like  me, 
I  mean?" 

"Oh,  yes.    Quite  a  number  your  size,  and  some  older." 

"Did  you  have  to  lick  'em  ?" 

"Never,"  Alice  answered,  greatly  amused  with  the  boy, 
who  continued,  "What  did  you  do  when  they  cut  up  ?" 

"They  didoi't  cut  up  much,  and  when  they  did  I  talked 
to  them  till  they  were  sorry,"  Alice  replied,  while  Jeff 
rejoined,  "I  wish  you  was  my  schoolma'am.  I  get  whaled 
two  or  three  times  a  week.  Don't  hurt  me,  though." 

"What  do  you  do  to  get  punished  so  often?"  Alice 
asked,  and  Jeff  replied,  "Oh,  nothin'  much.  I  hide  the 
scholars'  books  and  pails  and  dinners, — for  fun,  you  know, 
— but  I'm  whaled  the  most  for  gettin'  things  out  of  their 
pockets  when  they  don't  know  it." 

"A  pickpocket!"  Alice  exclaimed,  and  Jeff  rejoined, 
"No,  I  don't  do  it  for  keeps,  but  to  see  if  I  can, — and  I 
can,  too,"  he  added,  with  the  air  of  one  well  pleased 
with  himself.  "I'll  bet  you  a  cent  I  can  take  everything 
out  of  your  pocket  there  is  in  it,  and  you  not  know  it,  as 
we  go  back  to  the  hotel.  Take  the  bet  ?" 

Alice  looked  in  a  kind  of  terror  at  this  boy,  whose 
frank,  handsome  face  belied  his  words,  and  who,  hav 
ing  filled  his  basket  with  lilies,  was  rowing  out  into  the 
river,  preparatory  to  landing  on  the  other  side. 

"Oh,  Jefferson,"  she  said,  "never  pick  a  pocket  again, 
even  for  fun.  It  is  dangerous  business,  and  will  get  you 
into  trouble, — prison,  maybe." 

She  spoke  with  great  earnestness,  and  put  one  of  her 


ALICE   AND  JEFF.  8? 

hands  on  Jeff's  arm  to  emphasize  her  words.  Her  face 
was  very  close  to  his  and  her  blue  eyes  looked  at  him 
just  as  no  other  eyes  had  ever  rested  upon  him.  Mrs. 
Taylor  had  always  been  angry  whan  reproving  the 
young  scamp,  and  usually  rounded  her  reproof  with  a 
box  on  the  ear.  His  teacher  whaled  him  as  he  said,  while 
Mark,  the  only  one  who  claimed  jurisdiction  over  him, 
smiled  at  his  dexterity  while  scolding  him  for  it.  Alice 
took  a  different  course,  appealing  to  his  better  nature, 
and,  after  listening  for  a  few  moments  to  her,  he  said,  "I 
never  meant  no  harm.  I  called  it  sleight  of  hand,  but  I 
b'lieve  I'll  quit  it.  Nobody  ever  talked  to  me  this  way 
before,  makin'  me  feel  ashamed.  Miss  Taylor  cuffs  me 
when  she  jaws ;  the  teachers  thrash  me,  and  Mr.  Hilton 
scolds  with  one  corner  of  his  mouth  and  laughs  with  the 
other.  Yes,  I'll  quit  it,  if  you  say  so ;  but  what'll  you  bet 
I  can't  stand  on  my  head  in  the  boat  and  not  tip  it  a  bit?" 

He  seemed  resolved  upon  showing  his  accomplish 
ments  in  some  way,  but  Alice  declined  taking  the  last 
bet,  as  she  had  the  first,  and  was  rather  glad  to  find  her 
self  on  terra  firma.  The  mention  of  Mr.  Hilton  remind 
ed  her  that  possibly  there  was  a  chance  for  her  to  learn 
something  of  the  inmates  of  the  hotel.  A  boy  like  Jeff 
would  be  likely  to  tell  the  truth.  First  she  asked  him 
of  himself, — how  old  he  was,  and  where  he  was  born.  He 
told  her  his  age  as  nearly  as  he  could,  but  did  not  know 
where  he  was  born ;  nowhere,  he  guessed.  His  father 
and  mother  died  in  Boston  and  he  lived  anywhere,  in  al 
leys  and  streets,  turning  summersaults  in  the  day  time 
and  sleeping  at  night  in  a  big  old  hogshead  that  had 
drifted  ashore  on  the  wharf.  He  concluded  his  story  by 
saying,  "Mr.  Hilton  found  me  and  brought  me  to  the 
hotel." 

"Who  is  Mr.  Hilton?"  Alice  asked,  and  Jeff  replied, 


88  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"Why,  he's  Mark,  the  clerk,  who  sees  to  things  and  in 
sults  with  Mrs.  Taylor  about  everything.  He  put  that 
rose  on  your  table  last  night.  Did  you  smell  it  ?" 

Alice  had  noticed  it,  and  said  so,  while  Jeff  continued, 
"He  got  it  off  of  a  grave  down  in  the  cemetery,  where 
some  of  his  kin  is  buried.  I  seen  him,  for  I  was  in  the 
brook  close  by,  trying  to  catch  some  polywogs." 

Alice  wanted  to  ask  what  polywogs  were,  but  would 
not  interrupt  the  boy,  who  went  on:  "He  met  you  last 
night,  don't  you  know,  and  carried  you  into  the  house." 

"Not  me ;  that  was  my  cousin.  You  helped  me,"  Alice 
said,  and  asked  next,  "Are  there  any  other  gentlemen  in 
the  hotel  beside  Mr.  Hilton?" 

"My,  yes;  I  guess  there  is,"  and  Jeff  warmed  up  at 
once.  "There's  Mr.  Mason  from  Boston.  Awful  swell ; 
takes  a  bath  and  has  his  shoes  blacked  every  morning, 
and  wears  a  clean  shirt  and  collar  and  cuffs  every  day. 
I  only  wear  one  shirt  a  week.  Mr.  Hilton  wears  three." 

Alice  thought  it  possible  that  neither  Mr.  Hilton  nor 
Craig  Mason  would  care  for  her  to  have  a  more  intimate 
knowledge  of  their  habits,  and  began  to  speak  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Taylor.  Here,  too,  Jeff  was  very  communi 
cative.  "Mr.  Taylor  was  fust  rate,  and  let  a  feller  alone," 
he  said.  Some  called  him  shiftless,  but  he  liked  that  kind 
of  shiffless  that  wasn'a  allus  pitchin'  in  to  a  chap.  Miss 
Taylor  was  boss,  and  smart  as  chain  lightnin',  only  she 
couldn't  git  round  quite  so  quick,  she  was  so  big, — tipped 
the  scale  at  two  hundred.  He  liked  her  some  and  should 
like  her  more  if  she  didn't  make  him  go  to  Sunday- 
school  and  learn  twenty  verses  in  the  Bible  beside.  He 
was  through  with  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  and  was 
tackling  Nicodemus,  which  was  easier. 

They  had  reached  the  hotel  by  this  time,  and  with 
every  step  Alice's  interest  had  increased  in  Jeff,  whose 


ALICE  AND  JEFF.  89 

admiration  for  her  had  kept  pace  with  her  interest  in 
him.  He  offered  to  go  with  her  to  the  woods  and  show 
her  a  big  hornet's  nest  and  a  mud  turtle's  bed  in  the  pond, 
of  which  no  one  knew  but  himself,  and  he  made  her  take 
half  of  the  lilies,  refusing  any  remuneration  at  first.  Then, 
suddenly,  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  his  eyes,  he  said,  "If 
you  want  to  pay  me  so  bad  give  me  a  dime  and  we'll  call 
it  square." 

Alice  put  her  hand  in  her  pocket  for  her  purse,  which 
was  gone,  with  her  handkerchief  and  her  gloves,  which 
she  had  taken  off  when  she  helped  pull  in  the  lilies.  Be 
fore  she  could  utter  an  exclamation  of  surprise,  Jeff,  who 
was  watching  her,  had  turned  a  summersault  and  was  on 
his  feet  with  her  missing  articles  in  his  hand. 

"Here  they  be,"  he  said,  but  the  laugh  died  away  when 
he  saw  the  expression  of  Alice's  face  and  the  tears  in  her 
eyes  as  she  said,  "Oh,  Jefferson,  how  could  you !  You 
promised  you  wouldn't,  and  I  believed  you." 

If  she  had  struck  him  she  would  not  have  hurt  him 
as  much  as  did  the  sight  of  her  tears  and  the  sound  of 
her  voice. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  when  I  promised,  but  I  wanted  to 
try  it  just  once  more,"  he  said.  "I'm  awfully  sorry,  and 
I'll  never  do  it  again,  never.  I  don't  want  to  be  a  bad 
boy." 

"I  am  sure  you  don't,  and  as  a  beginning,  never  try 
that  trick  again,"  Alice  said,  putting  her  hand  on  his 
hair  and  smoothing  it  as  she  talked. 

"I  won't;  I  won't/'  Jeff  said,  "and  you'll  go  with  me 
to  see  the  hornet's  nest  and  the  mud  turkles  just  the 
same?"  , 

Alice  promised,  and  feeling  that  he  was  restored  to 
favor,  Jeff  ran  off  with  his  basket  of  lilies,  while  Alice 


^O  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

changed  her  boots  and  went  down  to  breakfast  with  her 
aunt,  who  asked  where  she  had  been  and  with  whom. 

Alice  told  her  of  Jeff,  who  had  offered  to  stand  on  his 
head  in  the  boat  and  not  rock  it,  and  had  picked  her 
pocket  as  they  came  up  the.  hill. 

"The  wretch !"  Mrs.  Tracy  exclaimed.  "A  pickpocket ! 
A  thief!  You  ought  to  report  him.  We  are  not  safe 
here,  and  Helen  so  careless  with  her  money  and  jewelry." 

As  well  as  she  could  Alice  explained,  saying  it  was 
done  for  fun, — that  there  was  no  harm  in  the  boy, — that 
she  liked  him  immensely,  and  would  trust  him  anywhere. 
While  she  talked  Jeff  was  crouching  under  an  open  win 
dow,  cutting  the  long  grass  with  a  sickle  and  hearing  all 
that  was  said.  At  first  he  resented  Alice's  telling  of  his 
prank,  but  his  anger  died  away  as  he  listened  to  her 
defense  of  him.  Mrs.  Tracy  had  called  him  a  thief,  and 
it  had  a  bad  sound. 

"I  ain't  a  thief,"  he  thought,  wiping  his  eyes  where 
the  tears  were  beginning  to  gather.  "I  never  kep'  a 
cent's  wtith  from  anybody.  I  do  it  because  I  can't  help 
it,  my  fingers  tingle  so  to  try  it.  I  was  mean  to  lie  to 
her  when  she  spoke  so  nice  to  me,  and  put  her  hand  on 
my  head  as  if  she  liked  me.  I  feel  it  there  now,"  and  he 
put  his  soiled  hand  where  Alice's  white  one  had  lain  and 
where  in  imagination  he  would  feel  it  again  in  after  years 
when  temptation  and  sin  had  marred  the  beauty  and 
blighted  the  innocence  of  a  face  which  was  so  frank  and 
open  now  in  its  young  boyhood. 


ALICE  AND  CRAIG.  pi 

CHAPTER   XL 

ALICE    AND    CRAIG. 

CRAIG  had  been  sitting  on  the  piazza  a  long  time  wait 
ing  for  somebody  to  come,  but  the  somebody  waited  for 
had  not  appeared  and  he  was  growing  rather  impatient 
and  wondering  what  kept  her.  Twice  Mark  Hilton  had 
walked  the  length  of  the  piazza, — an  unusual  proceeding 
for  him  at  that  hour  in  the  morning  when  his  duties  con 
fined  him  in  the  office.  Once  as  he  was  passing  Craig 
he  stopped  abruptly  and  asked,  "Have  you  seen  her?" 

Craig  felt  intuitively  whom  he  meant  and  answered, 
"No,  have  you  ?" 

"Only  very  indistinctly  in  the  rain,"  Mark  replied,  and 
walked  on  wondering  at  the  unrest  which  possessed  him 
and  had  made  him  quite  as  wakeful  the  previous  night 
as  Craig  had  been. 

He  knew  it  was  Helen  whom  he  had  carried  through 
the  rain,  for  he  heard  her  mother  speak  her  name.  He 
had  not  seen  her  face,  but  the  way  her  arms  had  clung 
around  his  neck,  as  if  afraid  he  would  let  her  fall,  and 
the  pressure  of  her  hand  on  his  as  he  put  her  down,  had 
been  like  an  electric  shock  which  he  still  felt,  calling  him 
self  a  fool  many  times  to  be  upset  by  the  touch  of  a  hand 
and  the  clasp  of  a  girl's  arms  around  his  neck.  It  was 
a  new  experience  for  him,  as  he  had  never  paid  much 
attention  to  the  ladies.  No  one  who  saw  him  ever  sus 
pected  the  irnorbid  vein  in  his  nature  which  made  him 
dwell  secretly  upon  a  past  in  which  he  had  no  part  and 
with  which  few  ever  connected  him.  He  had  felt  it  to 
an  unusual  degree  that  afternoon  when  he  stood  by 
Tina's  grave,  the  shadow  of  which  was  always  with  him 


£2  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

when  his  laugh  was  the  lightest  and  his  manner  the 
proudest.  He  couldn't  forget  it,  and  fancied  that  other 
people  remembered  it,  as  he  did.  To  the  guests  at  the 
hotel  he  was  polite  and  kind  and  attentive,  but  never 
familiar  with  them,  especially  if  they  were  ladies,  who 
were  sure  to  hear  the  story  and  gossip  about  it.  He  had 
thought  a  good  deal  about  the  Tracys,  who  represented 
a  different  class  from  those  who  usually  frequented  the 
hotel.  They  were  the  extreme  fashionables,  who  would 
probably  think  of  him  as  a  kind  of  servant  to  do  their 
bidding.  His  attention  to  them  in  the  rain  was  what  he 
would  have  given  to  any  ladies,  and  he  was  not  prepared 
for  the  way  in  which  Helen  had  received  it.  She  certainly 
had  pressed  his  hand  and  clasped  his  neck  as  her  mother 
had  not  done,  and  she  was  just  as  conscious  of  the  act 
as  he  was.  This  he  did  not  know.  It  was  an  accident,  he 
believed,  and  she  would  never  give  him  another  thought, 
while  he  should  subside  into  his  place  as  the  hotel  clerk 
and  watch  and  admire  her  at  a  distance.  This  was  his 
decision  as  he  left  Craig  and  went  to  speak  to  a  gentle 
man  who  had  come  from  the  train  and  was  inquiring  the 
way  to  a  farmhouse  among  the  hills  of  West  Ridgefield. 

Left  to  himself  Craig  looked  at  his  watch  and  then 
picked  up  Browning,  which  he  usually  had  with  him.  He 
had  joined  a  Browning  club  in  Boston,  partly  because  it 
was  the  thing  to  do,  and  partly  because  he  really  liked 
the  poet  and  enjoyed  trying  to  find  out  what  he  meant, 
if  anything.  He  had  taken  up  the  Story  of  Sordello  for 
his  summer  work,  resolved  to  make  himself  master  of 
its  obscurities  and  astonish  the  club  in  the  autumn  with 
his  knowledge.  But  reading  Sordello  alone,  with  no 
one  to  suggest  or  disagree,  was  up  hill  business,  and  he 
had  only  accomplished  the  first  book.  This  he  had  read 
three  times  and  was  debating  whether  to  give  it  a  fourth 


ALICE   AND   CRAIG  93 

trial,  or  to  attack  Book  second,  when  he  heard  the  sound 
of  a  footstep  and  a  young  girl  came  round  the  corner 
singing  softly, 

"Oh  the  glorious  summer  morning 
With  its  dewy  grass  and  flowers," 

"Only  there  are  no  flowers  here,"  she  added.  Then 
seeing  Craig  she  stopped  suddenly  and  said,  "I  beg  your 
pardon ;  I  didn't  know  any  one  was  here." 

She  was  tall  and  slender,  with  a  willowy  grace  in  every 
motion.  Her  complexion  was  pale,  but  betokened  per 
fect  health  and  vitality.  Her  light  brown  hair  was  twisted 
into  a  flat  knot  low  in  her  neck  where  it  was  making 
frantic  efforts  to  escape  in  little  wisps  of  curls.  Her  eyes 
were  large  and  blue  and  clear  as  a  child's.  Her  mouth 
was  rather  wide,  but  very  sweet  in  its  expression  when 
she  smiled.  Her  dress  was  a  simple  muslin  of  lavender 
and  white,  and  at  her  throat  and  belt  she  wore  a  half- 
opened  lily  which  she  had  gathered  on  the  river  and 
which  seemed  to  harmonize  so  well  with  her  pure  com 
plexion  and  general  appearance.  Some  such  idea  was  in 
Craig's  mind  as  he  rose  quickly  and  said  to  her,  "You 
are  not  intruding  at  all.  I  come  here  because  it  is  so 
quiet  and  I  like  the  outlook  across  the  fields  to  the  woods, 
but  I  have  no  right  to  monopolize  the  place.  Be  seated, 
won't  you?" 

He  brought  her  a  chair,  but  took  the  precaution  to 
put  it  at  a  safe  distance  from  his  own  and  where  he  could 
see  her  squarely.  He  had  been  thinking  only  of  Helen, 
expecting  her  and  waiting  for  her.  This  was  she,  of 
course,  and  her  simple,  unaffected  manner  was  her  pre 
monitory  artillery  against  which  she  would  find  him 
proof.  She  was  very  pretty,  but  he  y^as  not  sure  that  he 


94  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

hadn't  seen  faces  prettier  than  hers,  and  on  the  whole  he 
was  a  little  disappointed  to  find  her  less  formidable  than 
he  had  expected.  All  this  passed  through  his  mind  while 
Alice  was  thanking  him  for  the  chair  in  which  she  seated 
herself,  with  half  of  her  new  boots  showing  under  the 
hem  of  her  dress.  Craig  saw  them  and  thought  them 
very  small  and  well  fitting  and  that  she  was  displaying 
them  on  purpose. 

"Do  you  think  you  will  like  it  here?"  he  asked,  feeling 
he  must  say  something. 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  answered  enthusiastically.  "I  like  the 
country,  and  it  is  so  delightfully  cool  after  the  heat  of 
yesterday.  Do  you  know  I  have  a  great  desire  to  roll 
in  that  new  mown  hay  which  smells  so  sweet.  I  believe 
I  am  something  of  a  romp." 

Craig  did  not  know  what  to  say  to  this,  so  he  spoke 
of  the  lilies  which  Alice  was  wearing. 

"1  see  you  like  them,  too ;  they  are  my  favorites,"  he 
said,  "and  I  always  buy  one  of  Jeff.  He  hasn't  been 
round  yet.  I  wonder  what  keeps  him." 

"Pray  take  this.  I  have  more,"  Alice  said,  offering 
him  the  lily  which  was  in  her  belt,  without  a  thought  that 
she  might  seem  too  familiar,  until  she  saw  something 
like  surprise  on  Craig's  face  which  brought  a  blush  to 
her  own. 

She  certainly  was  a  little  forward,  Craig  thought,  but 
he  took  the  lily,  thinking  it  quite  in  keeping  with  her 
character  to  give  it  to  him.  He  didn't  know  that  in  her 
forgetfulness  of  self  Alice  would  give  away  anything 
another  wanted  and  that  she  would  as  soon  have  given 
the  lily  to  Uncle  Zacheus  as  to  him.  He  was  a  bit  of  a 
prig  she  was  thinking,  and  wondering  what  she  should 
say  to  him,  when  Jeff  appeared  with  his  basket. 


ALICE   AND   CRAIG.  95 

"You  are  too  late.  I  have  one;  the  young  lady  gave 
it  to  me,"  Craig  said. 

"All  right.  She  helped  me  pull  'em,"  Jeff  answered, 
as  he  darted  away,  while  a  suspicion  of  his  mistake  began 
to  dawn  upon  Craig. 

"You  helped  him  gather  him !  Aren't  you  Miss 
Tracy  ?"  he  asked  in  some  confusion. 

Alice  laughed  and  replied,  "A  Miss  Tracy,  yes;  but 
not  the  Miss  Tracy  you  have  evidently  mistaken  me  for. 
That  is  Helen.  I  am  Alice, — the  cousin.  I  live  at 
Rocky  Point,  among  the  mountains  between  Springfield 
and  Albany,  and  taught  school  there  the  last  spring 
term.  My  aunt  very  kindly  invited  me  to  spend  my 
vacation  with  her  and  Helen,  and  here  I  am,  and  so  glad 
to  be  here." 

She  was  not  Helen,  for  whom  Craig  was  waiting. 
She  was  an  unaffected  country  girl,  with  the  manners  of 
a  perfect  lady,  and  he  began  to  admire  her  greatly  and  to 
think  Uncle  Zach  not  far  out  of  the  way  when  he  called 
her  a  daisy.  She  had  given  him  her  confidence  and  he 
began  at  last  to  give  her  his,  and  before  he  realized  it 
had  told  her  a  great  deal  of  himself  and  what  he  liked 
and  disliked ;  had  told  her  about  the  hotel  and  the  town 
and  the  places  to  visit  and  had  introduced  her  to  Mark, 
who  had  joined  them  for  a  moment. 

When  he  was  gone  Craig  spoke  of  him  in  the  highest 
terms,  and  then  the  talk  turned  upon  books,  for  a  part 
of  Alice's  duty  was  to  find  out  what  Craig's  favorites 
were. 

"Do  you  have  much  inclination  to  read  here?"  sh'e 
asked,  glancing  at  the  half-open  volume  beside  him. 

"Not  much,"  he  replied,  taking  up  the  book  and  pass 
ing  it  to  her.  "I  have  been  trying  to  master  Sordello,  but 


96  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

guess  I  shall  have  to 'give  it  up  unless  you  can  help  me. 
Do  you  like  Browning?" 

"Mercy,  no!"  Alice  answered  quickly,  then  added,  as 
she  saw  a  shade  of  disappointment  in  his  face,  "Perhaps 
I  should  not  say  no  so  decidedly  when  I  know  so  little 
about  him.  I  might  like  him  if  I  knew  more  of  him. 
I  have  always  thought  him  very  obscure.  You  like  him 
of  course?" 

"Yes,  I  like  him  for  his  very  obscurity.  There  is  a 
pleasure  in  finding  out  what  he  means  just  as  there  is  in 
cracking  a  hard  nut  for  the  rich  meat  you  know  there 
is  inside.  It  is  pleasanter,  though,  studying  him  with 
other  people.  I  belong  to  a  Browning  Club  in  Boston 
and  find  it  rather  different  here  plodding  along  alone. 
I  suppose  you  have  no  clubs  in  Rocky  Point." 

He  did  not  think  how  the  last  part  of  his  speech 
sounded,  nor  mean  any  disrespect  to  Rocky  Point.  But 
Alice  resented  it  and  answered  quickly,  "No,  we  haven't. 
We  are  nearly  all  poor  working  people  earning  our 
bread,  with  no  time  for  clubs.  Many  of  us  never  heard 
of  Browning ;  certainly  not  of  Sordello.  I  think,  though, 
some  of  us  could  understand  him  as  well  as  members 
of  clubs,  give  us  a  chance.  Even  /  might,  if  I  could 
hear  you  read  and  explain.  Perhaps  you  will  do  me 
that  honor." 

She  spoke  sarcastically,  but  Craig,  who  was  conscious 
of  no  blunder  in  his  speech,  did  not  notice  it  and  was  only 
pleased  with  her  wish  to  hear  him  read  Browning.  He 
should  be  delighted,  he  said,  and  if  her  cousin  would 
join  them  with  Mr.  Hilton  and  perhaps  his  mother  and 
Mrs.  Tracy,  they  would  make  quite  a  class.  Between  them 
all  they  ought  to  master  Sordello.  Did  she  think  her 
cousin  would  like  it? 

Inwardly  Alice  shook  with  laughter  as  she  1  bought  of 


ALICE  AND   CRAIG.  9? 

Helen,  who  at  that  moment  was  struggling  with  the 
May  Queen  in  order  to  appear  learned,  posing  as  a  lover 
of  Browning,  and  expounding  the  meaning  of  Sordello. 
She  could,  however,  say  truthfully  that  she  was  sure  her 
cousin  would  be  happy  to  hear  Mr.  Mason  read,  when 
ever  he  was  kind  enough  to  do  so. 

At  this  point  his  mother  joined  him  and  was  presented 
to  Alice.  Mrs.  Mason  was  a  woman  with  some  strong 
opinions,  one  of  which  was  that  no  coquette  could  be 
a  well  principled  girl.  Helen  Tracy  was  a  noted  coquette, 
consequently  she  was  not  well  principled  and  might  lead 
Craig  into  all  manner  of  wrong  doing.  He  was  not  very 
susceptible,  it  was  true,  and  for  that  reason  there  was 
more  to  fear,  for  if  he  were  once  interested  he  would  be 
in  deadly  earnest,  and  she  was  thinking  of  proposing 
that  they  leave  Ridgefield  for  some  other  place.  Her 
first  thought  when  she  saw  Alice  talking  so  familiarly 
with  her  son  was,  "She  has  lost  no  time." 

Craig's  introduction  to  Miss  Alice  Tracy  disarmed  her 
at  once.  She  had  seen  a  great  deal  of  the  world  and 
could  judge  one's  character  pretty  correctly  by  the  face. 
What  she  saw  in  Alice  was  a  frank,  open  countenance, 
with  eyes  which  met  hers  steadily,  and  a  voice  so  pleas 
ant  and  winsome  that  she  was  drawn  to  her  immediately, 
and  as  they  talked  together  her  admiration  increased. 
Alice  was  so  artless  and  frank  and  so  inexpressibly  glad 
to  be  enjoying  herself,  with  no  dread  of  the  dingy 
school  house  among  the  hills,  with  its  closeness  and 
smell  of  tin  pails,  and  children  not  always  the  cleanest. 

"Only  think,"  she  said,  "of  two  whole  months  of  free 
dom  and  how  much  can  be  crowded  into  them.  You 
don't  know  what  this  vacation  is  to  me." 

She  was  not  in  the  least  affected,  and  as  she  talked 


98  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

there  came  a  faint  flush  to  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes 
sparkled  with  excitement. 

"She  is  very  pretty  and  very  sweet  and  very  real," 
Mrs.  Mason  was  thinking,  when  Celine  appeared,  and 
told  Alice  that  Mademoiselle  Helene  wanted  to  see  her. 

With  a  bow  and  smile  for  Mrs.  Mason  and  Craig,  Alice 
said  good  morning  and  hurried  away. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

A  COQUETTE. 

ALICE  found  Helen  in  her  room,  seated  before  a  mirror 
and  waiting  for  Celine  to  arrange  her  hair.  On  the  dress 
ing  table  were  combs  and  brushes  and  cut  glass  bottles 
and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  lady's  toilet,  golden  stop 
pered  and  silver  mounted,  showing  a  luxurious  taste  and 
utter  disregard  of  expenditure.  She  had  read  Tenny 
son's  May  Queen  in  bed  and  two  or  three  shorter  poems, 
and  had  committed  a  stanza  or  two  here  and  there  in 
order  to  seem  posted,  if  Craig  proved  to  be  an  admirer 
of  Tennyson.  If  he  were  not  and  she  found  herself  in 
deep  waters  she  trusted  to  her  tact  and  Alice's  help  to 
extricate  herself  some  way.  Getting  tired  of  Tennyson 
and  the  bed  she  arose  at  last  and  in  her  dressing  gown 
dawdled  about  the  room,  beginning  to  feel  bored  and 
wondering  why  Alice  did  not  come.  She  had  heard  from 
her  mother  that  Craig  was  stopping  in  the  hotel,  and 
Celine  had  told  her  of  being  introduced  to  him  by  a 
funny  old  gentleman  as  Miss  Mooseer,  and  Helen  had 
laughed  till  she  cried.  Celine  had  also  told  her  that  Alice 
was  talking  with  him  on  the  north  piazza. 


A  COQUETTE.  99 

"Pumping  him,"  she  said  to  herself.  "I  hope  it  won't 
take  her  long.  I  am  so  impatient  to  hear  the  result  and 
know  if  he  is  worth  the  trouble." 

Sitting  down  by  the  window  in  a  chair  she  began  to 
think  of  the  past  and  the  white  faces  and  sad  eyes  which 
had  looked  at  her  during  the  seven  years  since  her  first 
offer  when  she  was  only  fifteen.  Behind  these  were 
other  faces,  some  of  boys,  some  of  men,  whom  she  had 
played  with  and  flattered  and  then  thrown  aside  without 
regret. 

"Doesn't  it  say  somewhere  in  the  Bible  'Vengeance  is 
mine  and  I  will  repay,'  saith  the  Lord,"  she  thought. 
"Surely  my  payment  will  be  heavy  if  it  equal  my  in 
debtedness  ;  but  it  is  my  nature,  and  I  cannot  help  it." 

At  last  as  she  grew  more  and  more  impatient  and  Alice 
did  not  come,  she  sent  Celine  for  her.  Celine;  who  had 
been  Helen's  maid  for  years  and  knew  her  nearly  as  well 
as  she  knew  herself,  was  never  in  the  way,  and  Helen 
bade  her  go  on  with  her  hair  dressing  as  soon  as  she 
re-entered  the  room.  To  Alice  who  came  in  with  Celine 
her  first  word  was,  "Well?" 

"Well !"  Alice  returned,  and  Helen  continued,  "What 
news  from  Genoa?  You  have  been  gone  a  long  time 
and  must  have  something  to  tell." 

"Lots !  About  everything.  Shall  it  be  the  Sphinx 
first,  or  Hercules?"  Alice  asked,  and  Helen  repeated, 
"Hercules?  Who  is  he?  Oh,  yes,  I  know.  I'll  take  him 
second,  and  the  Sphinx  first.  I  know  he  is  here;  mamma 
told  me.  You  have  been  on  the  river  with  a  dreadful  boy 
who  stands  on  his  head  and  picked  your  pocket.  Skip 
him,  and  begin  with  the  Sphinx.  What  is  he  like?" 

"Very  much  like  any  other  city  bred  gentleman," 
Alice  replied.  "A  little  stiff,  perhaps,  especially  in  the 
matter  of  shirt  fronts  and  collars.  Jeff, — that's  the  dread- 


100  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

ful  boy, — says  he  changes  them  every  day,  and  he  does 
impress  you  as  having  just  been  washed  and  ironed,  he 
looks  so  clean  from  his  head  to  his  feet." 

"Nonsense!  You  are  comparing  him  with  those 
sweaty  men  on  your  uncle's  farm.  Seven  shirts  and  col 
lars  and  fourteen  cuffs  a  week!  What  a  laundry  bill! 
But  go  on.  Is  he  good  looking?" 

"Yes ;  with  a  rather  delicate  cast  of  countenance  for  a 
man.  He  was  very  polite,  and  after  his  stiffness  wore 
off,  talked  delightfully.  He  mistook  me  for  you." 

"Oh,"  Helen  said  quickly,  as  if  not  quite  pleased.  "You 
undeceived  him  of  course." 

"Certainly  I  did.  I  told  him  I  was  only  your  cousin, 
a  teacher  in  a  district  school  among  the  mountains." 

"I  don't  see  the  need  of  your  dragging  that  in," 
Helen  said,  and  Alice  rejoined,  "Knowing  how  rich  you 
are  he  might  think  me  rich,  too,  and  I  don't  want  to  sail 
under  false  colors." 

Helen,  to  whom  deception,  or  even  a  lie  was  nothing, 
if  circumstances  warranted  it,  tossed  her  head  and  con 
tinued,  "What  are  his  tastes  ?  What  does  he  like  ?" 

"He  likes  the  country,  especially  Ridgefield." 

"So  do  I  adore  it.    Go  on." 

"He  likes  rowing." 

Helen  had  a  mortal  terror  of  a  sail  boat  and  could 
scarcely  ever  be  persuaded  to  enter  one,  but  answered 
quickly :  "So  do  I.  Go  on." 

"He  likes  driving  over  the  hills  and  into  the  woods." 

Helen  made  a  grimace,  for  if  there  were  anything  she 
detested  it  was  driving  over  the  country  roads  in  country 
vehicles.  But  if  Craig  liked  it,  she  liked  it,  too,  and 
said  so. 

"What  next  ?"  she  asked,  and  Alice  replied,  "He  likes  to 


A  COQUETTE.  IOI 

sit  on  the  north  piazza,  where  it  is  cool,  and  away  from 
the  street." 

"Now  you  please  me;  that  is  delicious.  What  does 
he  do?  Smoke?" 

"I  think  not,  or  drink  either." 

"That's  bad.    What  does  he  do  ?" 

"Reads,  I  judge,  as  he  had  a  book  with  him." 

"Reads  what?  Tennyson,  I  hope.  I  went  through 
with  the  May  Queen  and  one  or  two  other  poems." 

"I  think  his  preference  is  Browning." 

"Browning!"  Helen  almost  shrieked.  "I  never  read  a 
line  of  him  in  my  life.  Do  you  mean  he  likes  Browning 
and  will  talk  to  me  about  him?" 

"I  think  so.  He  belongs  to  a  Browning  club,  and  is 
trying  to  master  Sordello." 

"Sordello!    What's  that?"  Helen  asked. 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know.  A  man,  I  imagine,"  Alice 
replied.  "He  said  he  found  it  hard  work  reading  alone 
and  suggested  that  we  join  him  for  half  an  hour,  or  an 
hour,  every  afternoon." 

"Oh,  horror,"  Helen  cried  in  dismay.  "Join  a  Brown 
ing  club,  and  not  know  a  thing  except  that  I  have  seen 
Mrs.  Browning's  house  and  grave  in  Florence,  and 
mamma  had  to  tell  me  who  she  was.  Do  you  think  there 
is  a  library  in  town?"  and  Helen  began  to  brighten. 

Alice  thought  there  must  be.    She  would  inquire. 

"No,  that  would  give  me  away.  Take  a  walk  by  your 
self,  and  if  there  is  one,  get  me  Browning's  Poems. 
Wretched,  that  I  must  wade  through  them,  when  I  was 
getting  on  so  nicely  with  Tennyson." 

Alice  laughed  at  her  distress,  but  promised  to  go  for  a 
walk  and  find  the  library,  if  there  were  one,  and  get 
Browning,  if  she  could. 

"But  suppose  there  are  several  volumes?    What  shall 


102  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

I  do  ?  I  can't  get  them  all,"  she  asked,  and  Helen  replied : 
"Get  the  one  with  that  man  in  it,  if  it  is  a  man.  Sorrento, 
isn't  it  ?" 

"Sordello!"  Alice  answered,  beginning  to  understand 
Helen's  drift. 

Her  toilet  was  completed  by  this  time  and  Alice  thought 
she  had  never  seen  her  lovelier  than  she  was  now  in  her 
Paris  gown  of  some  soft,  creamy  stuff,  with  its  frills  of 
lace  and  knots  of  ribbon  and  wide  sleeves,  which  fell  away 
from  her  white  arms  every  time  she  raised  them,  which 
she  often  did,  for  she  knew  their  beauty.  Her  com 
plexion  was  of  that  smooth  satiny  kind  which  suggests 
art  in  its  perfection.  But  no  cosmetic  of  any  description 
had  ever  touched  her  face,  which  was  of  rare  beauty. 
Her  greatest  charm  was  in  her  large  brown  eyes,  which 
she  knew  so  well  how  to  use  and  could  make  grave  or 
gay,  or  even  tearful  at  her  will.  They  were  very  bright 
this  morning,  with  an  unusual  sparkle  in  them,  for  she 
was  on  the  warpath,  with  a  new  kingdom  to  conquer, 
and  felt  her  blood  tingle  with  excitement  and  pleasure. 

"By  the  way,"  she  said,  after  surveying  herself  in  the 
mirror  and  walking  before  it  several  times,  as  she  always 
did  when  dressing,  "Mrs.  Mason  is  here, — a 'kind  of 
dragon,  I  am  afraid.  I  hear  she  is  very  proud..  Did  you 
see  her?" 

"Yes,  and  she  didn't  impress  me  as  proud  at  all.  She 
was  very  kind  to  me.  I  like  her,"  Alice  replied. 

"You  like  everybody,  and  everybody  likes  you,"  was 
Helen's  rejoinder;  then  she  said  suddenly:  "What  about 
Hercules?  I  came  near  forgetting  him.  Who  is  he?" 

"Mr.  Hilton,  the  hotel  clerk,"  was  Alice's  reply. 

"Oh — h,"  and  Helen's  countenance  fell  a  little.  "A 
clerk !  A  bartender !  I  was  afraid  of  that." 

"He  is  not  a  bartender ;  there  is  no  bar  to  tend.    This 


A  COQUETTE.  103 

1$  a  strictly  temperance  house.  You  couldn't  get  a  drink 
if  you  wanted  it.  Jeff  told  me  so.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor 
are  both  good  Christian  people,  and  Mr.  Hilton  seems  a 
gentleman  every  way.  He  is  splendid  looking  and  Mr. 
Mason  likes  him.  He  came  when  we  were  talking  and  I 
was  introduced  to  him." 

Alice  had  made  quite  a  long  speech  in  defense  of  Mark 
Pliiton,  while  Helen,  who  was  still  surveying  herself  in 
the  glass,  smiled  and  said,  "Oh,  hit,  are  you?  Well,  I 
wish  you  success,  but  to  me  there  is  not  much  difference 
between  a  hotel  clerk  and  a  bartender.  He  did  carry  me 
beautifully  though,  and  I'd  like  to  see  him.  Am  I  all 
right,  and  does  my  dress  hang  as  it  should  ?" 

"You  couldn't  look  better,"  Alice  said,  and  Helen  con 
tinued,  "I  wish  I  had  a  flower  of  some  kind." 

"How  would  a  lily  do?"  Alice  asked,  and  Helen  replied, 
"No,  thanks.  You  have  chosen  the  lily,  and  resemble  it 
more  than  I  do.  I  ought  to  have  a  rose." 

Here  Celine,  who  had  heard  all  the  conversation,  said, 
"There  is  a  beautiful  rose  on  the  table  in  the  salon.  It 
was  there  last  night.  Shall  I  bring  it  for  mademoiselle  ?" 

She  did  not  wait  for  an  answer,  but  hurrying  to  the 
salon  returned  with  the  rose  which,  though  not  quite  as 
fresh  as  the  previous  night,  was  still  very  fragrant. 

"Oh,  what  a  beauty!  Did  it  grow  in  the  garden?  If 
so,  there  must  be  more,"  Helen  said,  inhaling  the  per 
fume,  while  Celine  replied,  "It  didn't  grow  here.  I  asked 
Sarah  and  she  said  Monsieur  Hilton  put  it  on  the  table. 
She  did  not  know  where  he  got  it.  Monsieur  Mason 
helped  pick  and  arrange  the  fleurs-de-lis  in  the  centre  of 
the  table.  There  are  plenty  of  those.  Shall  I  gather 
some  for  Mademoiselle?" 

Helen  was  radiant.  Both  young  men  had  put  flowers 
on  the  table, — for  her,  no  doubt.  Fond  as  she  was  of 


104  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

Alice,  she  never  thought  she  could  be  considered  before 
or  with  herself.  Everything  was  for  Helen  Tracy  first; 
then,  Alice,  if  anything  were  left. 

"Fleurs-de-lis!  Yes,  I  remember  thinking  them  pretty 
with  the  ferns.  And  Mr.  Mason  put  them  there  ?  I  ought 
to  feel  flattered  and  to  wear  one  of  them.  His  color,  too, 
as  he  is  a  Yale  man ;  but  they  will  not  go  well  with  these 
ribbons.  I  must  wear  Mr.  Hilton's  rose.  I  hope  it  won't 
fall  to  pieces.  It  does  seem  a  little  droopy." 

She  fastened  it  in  a  knot  of  delicate  pink  ribbon  near 
her  shoulder  where  it  would  be  very  conspicuous,  and  de 
clared  herself  ready  for  the  preparatory  skirmish. 

"I  suppose  one  can  go  on  the  north  piazza  any  time. 
I  wonder  if  Mr.  Mason  is  there  still?  Celine,  please  go 
and  see,"  she  said. 

Celine  went  out,  and  when  they  were  alone  Alice,  who 
had  never  had  quite  so  clear  an  insight  into  Helen's  char 
acter  before,  said  to  her,  "Do  you  care  for  Mr.  Mason?" 

"Of  course  not.  How  should  I,  when  I  don't  know 
him,"  Helen  replied,  and  Alice  continued,  "Then  why  not 
leave  him  alone.  Will  it  be  any  satisfaction  to  win  him 
just  to  throw  him  over  as  you  have  so  many  others?  Is 
it  right,  or  womanly  ?" 

"A  second  Portia  come  to  judgment,"  and  Helen 
laughed  merrily.  "Seriously,  though,  it  isn't  right,  or 
womanly.  It  is  wicked  and  mean,  and  I  know  it  as  well 
as  you  do,  and  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  quit  the  busi 
ness,  and  maybe  take  Mr.  Prescott  for  fear  some  terrible 
judgment  would  overtake  me.  But  when  I  heard  Mr. 
Mason  was  here  all  the  old  Satan  woke  up  in  me,  and  I 
said  I'll  pay  him  for  his  slight  of  me  last  summer.  Per 
haps  I  shall  not  throw  him  over.  He  may  be  the  twenty- 
first  and  last.  Who  knows?  I  shall  be  twenty-three  in 
December, — time  I  was  married.  Is  he  there?"  and  she 


ON  THE   NORTH    PIAZZA.  105 

turned  to  Celine  who  had  just  entered  the  room  and  who 
reported  that  he  was  there  with  Monsieur  Hilton  and 
Monsieur  Taylor,  too. 

"Three  men  to  subjugate.  Nothing  could  suit  me 
better,"  and  Helen  clasped  her  hands  in  ecstasy.  "Au 
revoir,  cousin  mine.  Wish  me  success,  and  don't  forget 
the  library." 

"If  it  were  right  I'd  pray  that  she  might  not  succeed. 
I  have  prayed  for  more  trivial  things  than  that,  and  been 
heard,"  Alice  thought,  as  she  watched  her  cousin  going 
down  the  stairs  and  saw  her  turn  in  the  direction  of  the 
north  piazza. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

ON  THE  NORTH  PIAZZA. 

CRAIG  had  been  to  the  post  office  after  his  mail,  and 
taking  his  mother's  letters  to  her  room,  had  returned  to 
his  accustomed  place  on  the  north  piazza.  Here  he  found 
a  large  glass  of  iced  lemonade  with  a  straw  in  it  waiting 
for  him,  and  Uncle  Zacheus,  with  his  coat  off,  seated  in 
an  armchair,  mopping  his  face  with  a  yellow  silk  hand 
kerchief. 

"It's  swelterin'  hot  again  to-day.  Most  90  in  the  shade, 
and  I  thought  mabby  some  lemonade  would  taste  good 
after  your  walk,"  he  said  to  Craig,  who  thanked  him  and 
began  to  sip  the  cool  beverage.  "That's  on  old-fashioned 
toddy  tumbler.  I  told  Mark  to  use  it,  as  I  thought  you'd 
want  a  big  drink,"  Uncle  Zacheus  said,  and  Craig  thanked 
him  again,  and  said  he  was  very  thoughtful. 

At  that  moment  Mark  joined  them,  glad  to  escape  from 


106  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

the  office  which  at  that  hour  of  the  day  was  very  warm. 
There  had  been  a  lingering  hope  in  his  mind  that  Miss 
Helen  Tracy  might  be  there.  But  she  wasn't,  and  taking 
one  of  the  vacant  chairs,  he  brought  it  near  to  the  railing 
on  which  he  put  his  feet  and  leaning  back  with  his  hands 
behind  his  head,  gave  himself  up  to  a  rest  which  he  felt 
he  needed.  Craig,  too,  had  hoped  to  find  Helen  on  his 
return  from  the  post  office.  But  he  did  not,  and,  both 
young  men  had  seated  themselves  with  a  feeling  of  dis 
appointment  and  with  no  suspicion  of  the  preparations 
making  for  a  raid  upon  them. 

For  a  time  Uncle  Zacheus  rambled  on  about  the 
weather  and  the  new  fence  for  the  "cemetry"  for  which 
"Widder  Wilson  had  only  given  five  dollars." 

"I  mean  to  ask  Miss  Tracy  to  give  sunthin'  seein'  her 
gran'father  is  buried  there,"  he  said;  then,  turning  to 
Craig,  he  asked,  "Have  you  seen  t'other  one  yet?" 

Craig  knew  whom  he  meant,  but  wishing  to  hear  what 
Uncle  Zacheus  would  say,  he  asked  with  an  air  of  some 
surprise,  "Who  is  t'other  one?" 

"Why,  you  know.  You've  seen  the  one  I  call  the  daisy, 
though  she's  more  like  them  lilies  she  got  with  Jeff,  who 
has  never  behaved  so  well  in  his  life  as  sense  he  come 
up  from  the  river  with  her.  I  mean  the  cousin, — the  rich 
one.  I  seen  her  last  night,  and  I  tell  you  she's  a  dandy. 
Shorter  than  the  daisy, — plump  as  a  partridge,  and  such 
eyes.  Old  as  I  am  they  gave  me  some  such  feelin's  as 
Dot's  used  to  when  she  talked  to  me  over  her  father's 
gate.  She's  the  one  writ  that  nice  letter  I've  got  put  away 
with  Johnny's  blanket  and  the  old  sign." 

Neither  of  the  young  men  could  help  laughing  at  Uncle 
Zach's  comparing  Miss  Tracy's  eyes  with  Dot's,  which, 
if  they  were  ever  bright,  were  faded  now  and  expres 
sionless. 


ON   THE    NORTH    PIAZZA.  IO/ 

"That  is  the  kind  of  love  God  meant  when  He  said  a 
man  shall  cleave  to  his  wife  and  they  shall  become  one 
flesh,"  Craig  was  thinking  when  Uncle  Zach  startled  him 
by  clutching  his  arm  and  whispering,  "Wall,  I'll  be 
dumbed.  I  didn't  tell  you  half.  There  she  comes." 

Mark's  feet  came  down  in  a  trice  from  the  railing  as  he 
straightened  himself  up,  while  Craig  hastily  took  his 
straw  from  his  mouth  and  dropped  it  into  the  big  tumbler. 
Around  the  corner  nearest  to  Mark  Helen  came,  grace 
fully  Holding  the  train  of  her  dress  with  one  hand  and 
with  the  other  affecting  to  brush  something  from  the 
front  of  her  skirt.  Apparently  she  did  not  see  either  of 
the  three  men  and  nothing  could  have  been  more  natural 
than  her  start  of  surprise  and  pretty  blush  when  she  at 
last  looked  up. 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon  for  intruding.  My  cousin  told 
me  it  was  cool  here  and  so  I  came,"  she  said,  dropping  her 
train,  and  half  turning  to  leave. 

Instantly  Craig  and  Mark  were  on  their  feet,  while 
Uncle  Zach,  feeling  it  was  incumbent  on  him  to  speak, 
said,  "Don't  go.  The  piazzer  is  free.  I'm  glad  to  intro 
duce  you  to  Mark  and  Craig.  Take  a  chair." 

Craig  and  Mark  put  their  hands  on  the  same  chair  in 
their  efforts  to  serve  her,  and  bowed  so  close  together 
that  their  heads  nearly  touched  each  other.  Helen  took 
the  offered  chair  and  laughed  as  she  said  to  Uncle  Zach, 
"Please,  Mr.  Taylor,  which  is  Mark  and  which  is  Craig? 
You  didn't  tell  me,"  and  her  bright  eyes  met  those  of  the 
young  men  who  were  laughing  with  her  at  Uncle  Zach's 
blunder. 

"Well,  I'll  be  dumbed  if  I  hain't  done  a  smart  thing," 
he  said.  "Dot  would  give  me  Hail  Columby  if  she  knew 
it,  but  I  wras  so  frustrated  I  didn't  know  what  I  was 
about.  This  is  Mr.  Mason,  and  this  is  Mr.  Hilton." 


108  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

Helen  knew  perfectly  well  which  was  which  without  an 
introduction,  but  Uncle  Zach's  mistake  put  them  at  their 
ease  at  once.  Helen  was  always  at  her  ease,  and  seemed 
so  unconscious  of  herself  and  so  natural  that  Craig's 
prejudice  began  to  give  way  under  the  charm  of  her 
voice  and  the  glance  of  her  beautiful  eyes.  They  were  so 
bright  and  searching  that  he  winced  every  time  she  looked 
at  him,  while  Mark  grew  hot  and  cold  with  a  feeling  he 
could  not  understand.  He  saw  his  rose  among  the  rib 
bons  and  wondered  if  she  would  keep  it  there  if  she  knew 
where  it  came  from,  or  that  he  had  picked  it  for  her. 
She  was  a  little  reserved  toward  him  at  first,  for  the  bar 
tender  was  in  the  ascendant,  but  at  last  she  divided  her 
smiles  and  blandishments  pretty  evenly  between  him  and 
Craig,  asking  questions  in  the  most  naive  way  concerning 
the  town  and  the  people.  Uncle  Zach  answered  most  of 
these,  and  while  she  managed  to  bow  assent  in  the  right 
place  and  pretended  to  give  him  her  undivided  attention 
she  was  mentally  sizing  up  Craig  and  Mark  and  weighing 
them  by  her  standard.  She  had  dropped  the  name  of 
Hercules  for  Mark  and  substituted  Apollo,  which  suited 
him  better.  He  was  the  finest  looking  man  she  had  ever 
met,  she  thought,  and  with  the  speech  and  manners  of  a 
gentleman.  There  was  nothing  about  him  but  the  fit  of 
his  clothes  to  indicate  that  he  was  not  up  to  date.  He 
might  be  a  hotel  clerk,  and  as  such  lower  in  the  social 
scale  than  Craig  Mason,  but  he  was  very  fascinating, 
and  would  do  to  flirt  with  if  she  failed  with  the  Sphinx, 
as  she  still  designated  Craig.  That  the  latter  was  a 
gentleman  in  every  respect  she  decided  at  once.  He  was 
rather  too  dignified  and  reserved  and  was  evidently  igno 
rant  of  small  talk  as  she  understood  it.  But  she  was  sure 
she  could  make  him  unbend;  he  was  unbending  under 
the  artillery  of  her  eyes,  which  never  did^  better  execution 


ON  THE   NORTH    PIAZZA.  IOQ 

than  they  did  now,  while  her  rippling  laugh  at  some 
things  Uncle  Zach  wras  saying  kept  pace  with  them.  He 
was  certainly  up  to  date  in  everything,  and  she  noticed 
each  item  of  his  dress  and  saw  his  immaculate  shirt-front 
and  collar  and  cuffs  which  Jeff  had  said  were  clean  every 
day. 

"I  believe  he  is  just  as  clean  in  his  character  as  in  his 
linen,"  she  thought,  and  a  most  unbounded  respect  for 
him  and  desire  to  stand  well  in  his  opinion  began  to  take 
possession  of  her. 

Meantime  the  young  men  were  summing  her  up  and 
arriving  at  nearly  the  same  conclusion.  She  might  be  a 
coquette,  but  she  gave  no  sign  of  it,  and  was  the  loveliest 
piece  of  womanhood  they  had  ever  seen.  She  was  charm 
ing;  she  was  everything  that  was  feminine  and  sweet. 
This  was  their  verdict  as  they  watched  her,  now  leaning 
back  in  her  chair  in  a  languid  kind  of  way  like  a  child 
that  is  tired,  now  managing  to  show  her  white  arms  under 
the  wide  sleeves  of  her  dress,  and  all  the  while  keeping  up 
a  flow  of  talk  as  if  she  had  known  them  always.  She  had 
a  facility  of  making  every  man  in  her  presence  appear  at 
his  best,  and  also  of  making  him  conscious  if  anything 
were  wrong  with  him,  and  she  exerted  that  power  over 
Uncle  Zach.  His  shirt  sleeves  had  surprised  her,  remind 
ing  her  of  the  farm  hands  at  Rocky  Point  and  she  did 
not  think  it  quite  respectful  to  herself  that  he  should  con 
tinue  to  sit  thus  after  she  joined  him.  He,  however,  was 
oblivious  to  anything  out  of  the  way  in  his  toilet  until  her 
eyes  had  travelled  over  him  several  times  with  question 
ing  glances.  Then  suddenly,  as  if  her  thought  had  com 
municated  itself  to  him,  he  started  up,  exclaiming,  "I'll 
be  dumbed  if  I  ain't  here  in  my  shirt  sleeves,  with  a  lady, 
too,  Mark.  Why  didn't  you  tell  me,  and  what  would  Dot 
say.  Let  me  get  my  coat." 


HO  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

He  seemed  so  genuinely  distressed  that  Helen's  feel 
ings  changed  at  once.  He  had  recognized  the  respect  due 
to  her  and  she  was  satisfied. 

"My  dear  good  man,"  she  said.  "Sit  still  and  .don't 
mind  me.  I  know  you  are  more  comfortable  as  you  are." 

"Thank  you,"  Uncle  Zach  said,  resuming  his  seat.  "I 
had  a  notion  that  you  thought  I  or'to  put  on  my  coat,  and 
it's  so  much  cooler  without  it.  Dot  wouldn't  like  it 
though.  She  tries  to  keep  me  a  gentleman,  but  land  o' 
Goshen,  what  can  you  do  with  a  tarvern  keeper  ?  I  slipped 
it  off  because  she's  gone  over  the  river  a  huntin'  aigs.  It's 
time  she  was  back,  if  she  didn't  have  to  go  clear  to  the 
town  farm,  — a  long  ride  this  hot  mornin'." 

"Are  there  many  pleasant  drives  in  Ridgefield?"  Helen 
asked,  and  Uncle  Zach  replied,  "Hundreds  of  'em, — round 
the  ponds  and  over  the  hills  and  through  stretches  of 
woods  half  a  mile  long  with  saxifax  and  shoe-makes  and 
blackb'ry  bushes  growin'  by  the  road." 

Helen  shivered  mentally  and  smelled  the  sa.vifax,  which 
she  detested,  and  felt  the  scratch  of  the  brier  bushes  which 
grew  by  the  roadside  in  the  long  stretches  of  wood:  But 
she  made  no  sign,  and  when  Craig  said  to  her,  "Are  you 
fond  of  driving  in  the  country?"  she  unhesitatingly  an 
swered,  "Oh,  very." 

"Then,  I  tell  you  what,"  Uncle  Zach  began.  "You 
shall  have  piles  of  'em  and  cost  you  nothin'.  There's  the 
open  carry-all,  and  there's  the  bloods,  Paul  and  Virginny, 
doin'  nothin'.  Splendid  critters,  too.  Have  run  on  the 
race  track,  and  beat.  Mr.  Mason,  you  haven't  been  there ; 
on  the  course,  I  mean.  Suppose  you  and  Mark  and  the 
girls  take  a  ride  this  afternoon,  when  it  gits  cool.  What 
do  you  say?" 

He  looked  at  Helen,  who  answered  that  it  would  be 


ON  THE   NORTH    PIAZZA.  HI 

delightful  if  Alice  would  go  and  the  gentlemen  were 
agreeable. 

''Are  the  horses  perfectly  safe?  I  am  sometimes  a  little 
timid,"  she  asked. 

Craig  laughed  as  he  recalled  the  habits  of  the  bloods 
and  wished  so  much  for  his  fleet  Dido,  standing  idle  in 
her  stall  in  Auburndale,  his  mother's  country  residence. 
He  had  not  taken  a  sip  of  his  lemonade  since  Helen  joined 
them,  but  he  did  so  now,  and  that  diverted  Uncle  Zach's 
thoughts  into  another  channel. 

"George  of  Uxbridge !"  he  said,  "what  are  we  thinkin' 
about,  not  offerin'  Miss  Tracy  some  lemonade.  Mark, 
go  this  minit  and  make  her  a  glass." 

It  grated  on  Helen  to  have  her  Apollo  ordered  as  a 
servant,  and  she  made  a  faint  protest,  begging  Mark  not 
to  trouble  himself  for  her. 

"Yes,  he  will,  too;  he's  made  hundreds  on  'em, — tip 
top  ones,  too.  No  sticks  in  'em,  though.  We  are  tee 
totalers  here,  we  be,"  Uncle  Zach  said. 

There  was  nothing  Helen  enjoyed  more  than  cham 
pagne  and  sherry,  and  she  thought  a  fashionable  dinner 
very  tame  without  them,  and  that  lemonade  was  improved 
with  claret,  but  she  was  a  Roman  with  the  Romans  and 
smiled  on  Uncle  Zach  as  she  said,  "And  you  are  quite 
right,  too.'5 

Then  she  settled  herself  to  wait  for  her  lemonade  which 
was  longer  in  making  than  Craig's  had  been.  For  her  the 
ice  was  chopped  fine,  every  seed  and  bit  of  pulp  was  re 
moved  and  the  mixture  beaten  until  it  had  a  creamy  look 
on  the  top.  Lemonade  spoons  had  not  been  invented,  but 
Mark  put  a  fresh  straw  and  teaspoon  and  napkin  on  the 
tray,  which  he  took  to  the  young  lady,  who  declared  she 
had  never  drank  anything  more  delicious.  As  she  talked 
some  leaves  from  the  rose  in  her  ribbons  fell  into  her  lap. 


112  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"My  poor  rose,  it's  fading,  and  it  was  so  sweet,  and  I 
am  so  fond  of  roses.  Sarah  said  you  put  it  on  the  table 
for  us.  Are  there  more  where  this  came  from  ?" 

She  turned  to  Mark  with  a  look  which,  had  he  been 
Jeff,  would  have  sent  him  on  to  his  head  at  once.  As  it 
was  he  merely  lost  it  and  stammered  out  that  he  didn't 
know, — he'd  inquire,  and  get  her  more,  if  possible. 

By  the  time  she  finished  the  lemonade  so  many  leaves 
had  fallen  that  she  removed  the  rose  and  laid  it  on  the 
tray  which  Mark  took  from  her,  carefully  gathering  every 
leaf  which  had  dropped  upon  her  dress,  and  then,  foolish 
man  that  he  was,  putting  them  away  in  his  pocketbook. 
Mark  was  in  love.  Hopelessly,  of  course,  and  though 
nothing  could  ever  come  of  it  he  made  no  effort  to  smother 
it.  He  could,  at  least,  enjoy  the  crumbs  and  leave  the  full 
table  to  Craig,  who  was  not  so  far  gone  as  himself,  but 
whose  prejudices  were  rapidly  giving  way.  It  was  scarce 
ly  possible  that  so  much  naturalness  and  graciousness  of 
manner  were  consummate  acting.  Public  opinion  had 
been  mistaken  and  had  vilified  the  beautiful  girl  who  sat 
there,  so  unconscious  of  herself,  and  the  admiring  glances 
he  gave  her  from  time  to  time.  Mr.  Taylor  nad  been 
called  away  by  Dotty,  who  had  returned  with  her  eggs, 
and  as  Mark  did  not  come  back  Craig  was  alone  with 
Helen. 

This  was  what  she  had  looked  forward  to.  Uncle  Zach 
was  a  garrulous,  amusing  old  man,  who  at  times  was 
better  out  of  the  way.  Mark  interested  her  more  than 
she  would  have  thought  it  possible,  and  had  he  been  the 
equal  of  Craig,  as  the  world  defines  equality,  she  would 
have  given  him  her  attention  and  left  Craig  alone.  She 
had  never  flirted  with  a  hotel  clerk, — a  bartender, — and 
she  scolded  herself  for  thinking  so  much  about  him,  and 
contrasting  him  with  Craig,  who  was  inclined  to  be  silent 


ON   THE   NORTH    PIAZZA. 

at  first.  Evidently  she  must  lead  the  conversation,  and  she 
began  by  asking  if  he  found  it  at  all  dull  in  the  country. 

"I  shall  like  it  for  a  while,"  she  said.  "It  is  so  different 
from  the  places  we  are  in  the  habit  of  visiting,  Saratoga, 
for  instance.  We  were  there  last  summer.  I  suppose 
you  have  been  there?" 

She  looked  at  him  as  innocently  as  if  she  did  not  know 
that  her  question  would  pique  him  a  little.  Craig  Mason 
and  his  horse,  Dido,  had  been  nearly  as  conspicuous  at  the 
Clarendon  as  Helen  Tracy  had  been  at  the  United  States, 
and  that  she  should  not  have  heard  of  him  was,  to  say  the 
least,  rather  humiliating  to  his  pride.  He  didn't  know  that 
she  was  paying  him  for  his  slight  and  that  she  felt  quite 
repaid  when  she  saw  his  look  of  chagrin,  which  he  cov 
ered  with  a  laugh  as  he  replied,  ''Oh,  yes,  I  was  there 
last  summer, but  did  not  have  the  pleasure  of  meeting  you. 
I  heard  of  you,  though.  Indeed,  everybody  did  that. 
How  could  they  help  it?" 

He  was  complimenting  her  rather  stiffly  and  blushing 
like  a  girl  as  he  did  it,  but  Helen  knew  she  was  gaining 
ground,  and  thanked  him  with  her  eyes  which  were 
always  as  expressive  as  words.  After  that  they  grew 
very  social,  and  at  last,  although  she  tried  to  stave  it  off, 
the  conversation  turned  upon  books.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Helen  brought  forward  Tennyson  as  a  most  charming 
author.  Craig  brushed  him  aside  for  Browning,  his 
favorite,  and  hers,  too,  she  finally  said,  suggesting  that 
she  believed  he  was  too  obscure  for  most  people  to  enjoy 
thoroughly  without  a  teacher. 

"Yes,  that's  true,"  Craig  admitted,  "but  I  like  him, 
though  I  confess  it  is  rather  tiresome  reading  him  alone. 
I  have  taken  up  Sordello,  and  your  cousin  was  kind 
enough  to  say  that  she  thought  you  might  like  a  short 
reading  some  afternoon.  My  mother,  I  know,  will  join 


114  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS.' 

us;  possibly  your  mother  and  Mr.  Hilton,  when  he  can. 
He  is  a  very  intelligent  man, — far  above  the  average. 
Do  you  think  you  would  like  it  ?" 

"I  shall  be  delighted,"  Helen  answered  promptly,  won 
dering  which  she  should  find  the  pleasanter,  driving  over 
dusty,  stony  roads,  with  sassafras  and  brier  bushes  grow 
ing  beside  them,  or  listening  to  Sordello,  of  which  she 
had  not  the  most  remote  idea. 

But  she  had  commited  herself,  and  Craig  was  pleased, 
and  believed  he  had  found  a  bright  disciple  of  Browning, 
and  told  her  he  expected  much  from  her  opinion  and 
quick  appreciation  of  what  was  to  most  people  ab 
struse  and  dry.  Helen  thought  of  the  Potted  Sprats  in 
Mrs.  Opie's  White  Lies,  and  concluded  she  was  eating  a 
tremendous  one. 

"What  shall  I  do  if  Alice  doesn't  get  me  the  book?" 
she  asked  herself,  deciding  that  a  sick  headache,  whenever 
Browning  was  on  the  carpet  would  be  the  only  alternative. 

As  if  in  answer  to  her  thought  Alice  appeared  at  that 
moment,  and  in  response  to  an  interrogatory  glance  from 
Helen  nodded  an  affirmative.  She  had  unquestionably 
found  the  book  and  Helen's  fears  were  given  to  the 
winds.  With  her  ready  memory  she  could,  if  she  tried, 
commit  pages  of  Sordello,  or  anything  else,  and  her  face 
glowed  with  satisfaction  and  confidence.  Craig  had 
scarcely  given  Alice  a  thought  in  his  absorption  with 
Helen,  but  when  she  appeared  a  reaction  came  and  he 
wondered  why  he  should  suddenly  feel  so  cool  and  restful. 
It  was  because  she  looked  so  restful  and  cool,  he  con 
cluded,  and  yet  she  declared  herself  very  warm,  and,  de 
clining  the  chair  he  offered  her,  sat  down  upon  the  steps 
and  fanned  herself  with  her  hat,  while  Helen,  relieved 
from  all  anxiety,  began  what  Alice  called  an  outrageous 
flirtation  of  jokes  and  brilliant  sallies  which  poor  Craig 


THE   DIAMONDS.  11$ 

no  more  understood  than  she  did  Browning,  and  which 
so  confused  and  bewildered  him  that  he  was  glad  when  at 
last  he  saw  his  stately  mother  coming  toward  him  with  a 
showily-dressed  woman  whom  he  recognized  as  Mrs. 
Tracy. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  DIAMONDS. 

MRS.  FREEMAN  TRACY  was  a  faded,  washed-out  woman 
who  had  been  very  pretty  in  her  girlhood  and  who 
thought  with  the  aid  of  dress  and  cosmetics  to  retain 
a  remnant  at  least  of  her  former  youth  and  beauty.  Celine, 
who  understood  make-ups  to  perfection,  always  did  her 
best  with  her  older  mistress,  and  Worth  and  New  York 
modistes  did  the  rest.  On  this  occasion  her  dress  would 
have  been  suitable  for  Narraganset  or  Saratoga,  though 
even  there  it  would  have  been  noticed  for  its  elaborate  ele 
gance,  but  in  plain  Ridgefield  it  looked,  with  its  sweeping 
train  and  flounces  and  ribbons,  as  if  designed  for  a  ball 
room  rather  than  a  country  tavern.  But  no  such  idea 
troubled  her.  She  was  vainer  of  her  looks,  if  possible, 
than  her  daughter,  and  a  great  deal  more  shallow.  She 
was  proud  of  being  Mrs.  Freeman  Tracy  and  the  grand 
daughter  of  the  tallest  monument  in  Ridgefield  cemetery ; 
proud  of  being  the  mother  of  the  most  beautiful  girl  in 
New  York,  or  any  other  city  she  had  ever  visited,  and 
very  proud  of  the  famous  Tracy  diamonds. 

They  had  been  brought  from  India  by  her  husband's 
uncle  on  his  mother's  side  and  given  to  her  on  her  wed 
ding  day,  with  the  understanding  that  they  were  to  go  to 
her  daughter,  if  she  had  one,  on  her  bridal  day.  There 


Il6  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

was  a  cross,  with  pin  and  ear-rings, — the  whole  represent 
ing  a  fortune  in  itself.  The  ear-rings  especially  were  of 
great  value  and  once  seen  could  readily  be  identified. 
They  were  pear  shaped,  very  large,  white  and  clear,  and 
always  attracted  attention  and  excited  comment  when  she 
wore  them.  The  care  of  these  costly  gems  was  the  bane 
of  Mrs.  Tracy's  life,  and  numberless  and  curious  were 
their  hiding  places  when  not  in  a  downtown  safe  at  her 
banker's  where  she  kept  them  during  Lent  and  at  such 
times  as  she  did  not  wear  them.  Helen  had  urged  her 
leaving  them  there  when  coming  to  Ridgefield,  but  she 
had  refused  to  do  so.  The  bank  might  be  robbed,  or  dupli 
cates  might  be  made  of  them  in  Paris  where  the  banker 
went  every  few  months.  She  had  heard  of  such  things, 
and  when  she  was  not  in  the  city  and  liable  to  call  for 
them  every  few  days  there  was  no  knowing  what  might 
be  done.  She  should  take  them  with  her,  putting  the 
boxes  in  a  strong  linen  bag  which  Celine  carried,  with 
instructions  never  to  let  it  out  of  her  possession  a  moment. 
At  the  Prospect  House  it  would  be  rather  awkward  for 
the  girl  to  be  walking  around  with  a  bag  hung  on  her  arm, 
and  during  the  night  it  had  reposed  under  Mrs.  Tracy's 
mattress  and  been  forgotten  until  Sarah,  when  making 
the  bed,  found  it  and  took  it  to  Mrs.  Tracy.  Evidently 
some  place  where  the  jewels  could  stay  must  be  found 
for  them. 

"I  wonder  if  there  is  a  safe  in  the  house,"  Mrs.  Tracy 
thought,  as  she  opened  one  of  the  boxes  and  feasted  her 
eyes  upon  her  treasures.  Then  she  wondered  where 
Helen  and  Alice  were,  andVhy  everybody  was  out  of  the 
way  when  she  wanted  them. 

"Miss  Tracy  is  on  the  north  piazza  talking  with  Mr. 
Mason,"  Celine  said,  "and  Miss  Alice  most  likely  has  gone 
on  some  errand  for  her.  I  saw  her  going  up  the  street." 


THE   DIAMONDS.  117 

Mrs.  Tracy  nodded,  and  after  a  time  decided  to  go  her 
self  to  the  north  piazza,  or  office,  and  inquire  for  a  safe. 
She  had  not  met  Mrs.  Mason  and  felt  rather  anxious  to 
do  so.  Nothing  could  be  bluer  or  purer  in  her  estimation 
than  the  Tracy  and  Allen  blood  mixed,  but  the  Mason 
blood  was  nearly  as  blue,  and  she  had  a  great  desire  to  be 
allied  with  it  through  a  marriage  of  Helen  with  Craig. 
Consequently  she  was  prepared  to  be  very  gracious  to  the 
mother.  The  gown  she  wore  was  selected  with  some  ref 
erence  to  Mrs.  Mason,  who  had  been  abroad  and  would 
recognize  Paris  workmanship.  As  she  was  passing  the 
foot  of  the  stairs  she  heard  the  sound  of  a  footstep  and 
saw  a  tall  lady  descending  whom  she  knew  must  be  Mrs. 
Mason  from  her  air  of  good  breeding  and  the  dignity 
with  which  she  bore  herself. 

"Good  morning,"  Mrs.  Mason  said.  "We  need  not 
stand  on  ceremony  here.  I  know  you  are  Mrs.  Tracy, 
and  I  am  Mrs.  Mason." 

Craig,  who  knew  his  mother's  opinion  of  fashionable 
women  like  Mrs.  Tracy,  would  have  been  astonished  at 
her  cordiality,  but  Mrs.  Mason  was  a  lady,  and  as  such 
she  would  treat  Mrs.  Tracy  when  associated  with  her  in 
the  same  house.  Mrs.  Tracy  was  delighted  and  met  her 
advance  effusively  and  told  her  where  she  was  going. 

"I  think  we  shall  find  our  young  people  there.  Yes, 
here  they  are,"  she  said,  with  a  meaning  smile  as  she 
turned  the  corner  and  saw  them ;  Craig  in  his  usual  place ; 
Helen,  who,  on  the  pretext  of  getting  out  of  the  glare 
of  the  noonday  light,  had  moved  her  seat,  sitting  near 
him,  and  Alice  on  the  steps. 

In  a  moment  Craig  arose  and  bowed  to  Mrs.  Tracy, 
whom  his  mother  presented  to  him,  and  who  sank  into  a 
chair,  as  if  exertion  of  any  kind  were  too  much  for  her 
delicate  frame. 


Il8  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"Ar'n't  you  going  to  introduce  me  to  your  mother?" 
Helen  asked,  as  she  saw  Craig  resuming  his  seat. 

"I  beg  your  pardon  for  my  thoughtlessness,"  he  said. 
"I  must  have  lost  my  head.  Mother,  this  is  Miss  Helen 
Tracy." 

Mrs.  Mason  bowed  to  her  a  little  stiffly,  but  Helen  was 
not  be  ignored,  and  talked  on  in  a  familiar,  chatty  way, 
until  she  saw  from  her  mother's  face  that  she  was  grow 
ing  restless  and  anxious  for  a  chance  to  speak. 

"What  is  it,  mamma?"  she  said  at  last.  "Do  you  want 
anything?" 

"Yes,"  her  mother  replied.  "I  wish  to  see  Mr.  Taylor, 
or  some  responsible  person  with  regard  to  my  diamonds. 
Do  you  know  if  he  is  in  the  office  ?" 

She  looked  at  Craig,  who  arose  at  once  and  said  he 
would  inquire.  Returning  in  a  moment  he  brought  Mark 
with  him,  saying  Mr.  Taylor  was  not  in,  but  Mr.  Hilton 
would  perhaps  do  as  well,  if  she  were  thinking  of  the  safe. 
Mrs.  Tracy's  face  showed  that  she  would  rather  deal  with 
the  proprietor,  and  she  finally  said  so,  She  had  opened 
the  boxes  and  put  them  upon  the  table  where  the  jewels 
shone  and  flashed  in  a  bit  of  sunlight  which  fell  across 
them. 

"Jeff  said  you  wanted  me.  Here  I  be,"  came  at  that  mo 
ment  from  Uncle  Zach,  who  was  followed  by  his  wife 
with  her  big  kitchen  apron  on,  her  sleeves  above  her  el 
bows  and  a  patch  of  flour  on  her  face.  "Wall,  I'll  be 
dumbed,"  he  began,  when  he  saw  the  diamonds.  "These 
must  be  the  stones  I've  hearn  tell  on,"  he  said,  taking  one 
of  the  ear-rings  from  its  satin  bed  and  turning  it  in  the 
sun  until  a  hundred  sparks  of  light  danced  on  the  wall 
and  on  the  floor,  "I  reckon  these  cost  money, — hun 
dreds,  maybe." 


THE   DIAMONDS.  IIQ 

"Hundreds !"  Mrs.  Tracy  repeated  scornfully,  "Thou 
sands  are  nearer  the  truth."  , 

"You  don't  say  so,"  and  Uncle  Zach  gasped  as  he  looked 
at  the  stones  and  wondered  where  the  money  was  in  them. 

Holding  the  jewel  up  to  his  wife's  ear  he  asked  how  she 
would  like  to  wear  it. 

"Don't  be  a  fool,"  she  said,  "and  put  the  ear-ring  back 
before  you  drop  it  and  break  it  and  have  it  to  pay  for." 

At  this  everyone  laughed  except  Mrs.  Tracy,  who  was 
too  intent  upon  business  to  think  of  the  absurdity  of 
breaking  her  diamond. 

"They  are  in  a  way  heir-looms,"  she  said,  "brought 
from  India  and  given  to  me  on  my  wedding  day.  They 
are  to  be  my  daughter's  when  she  marries." 

She  was  looking  at  Craig  who  did  not  seem  as  much 
impressed  as  Mark.  To  him  there  was  a  fascination  about 
those  diamonds,  which  seemed  like  so  many  eyes  con 
fronting  him,  and  he  was  glad  when  Mrs.  Tracy  closed 
the  box  and  shut  them  from  his  sight. 

"You  want  to  put  'em  in  the  safe,  do  you  ?"  Uncle  Zach- 
eus  said,  "Wall,  there  ain't  no  better  one  in  the  state  than 
mine.  Burglar  proof  unless  they  blow  it  up,  and  Mark 
would  hear  'em  before  they  got  very  far  at  that." 

"Does  he  sleep  in  the  office?"  Mrs.  Tracy  asked,  and 
Uncle  Zach  replied,  "No,  ma'am;  but  in  the  room  j'inin'. 
That  linter  you  may  have  noticed  is  his  bedroom." 

"How  many  know  the  combination  ?"  was  Mrs.  Tracy's 
next  question,  and  Uncle  Zach  replied,  "Nobody  but 
Mark  and  me,  and — yes,  one  more, — Dot.  She  had  to 
know,  but  Land  sakes,  she  can  no  more  unlock  it  than  a 
child.  I  have  tough  work  at  it  myself.  Mark  is  your 
man." 

Mark  had  a  feeling  that  Mrs.  Tracy  distrusted  him,  and 


I2O  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

he  suggested  that  she  might  feel  safer  if  her  diamonds 
were  in  the  vault  of  the  bank. 

"No,"  she  answered  quickly.  "I  prefer  to  have  them 
where  I  can  assure  myself  of  their  safety  any  moment." 

"Forty  times  a  day  if  you  want  to.  Mark  will  unlock 
it  for  you,"  Uncle  Zach  suggested.  "Won't  you,  Mark  ?" 

The  young  man  did  not  answer.  He  was  standing 
with  his  arms  folded  and  a  somber  look  in  his  eyes,  until 
they  rested  upon  Helen,  who  was  close  to  him,  and  who, 
with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders,  said  in  a  low  tone,  "Don't 
mind  mamma.  She  is  so  fussy  about  her  diamonds  that 
she  will  scarcely  trust  them  with  any  firm  in  New  York. 
/  should  let  them  lie  around  loose." 

Wrapping  the  boxes  in  several  folds  of  tissue  paper 
Mrs.  Tracy  handed  them  to  Mark,  saying  "I  hold  you 
responsible  for  them."  She  saw  them  placed  in  the  safe, 
and  decided  that  if  she  dared  she  would  some  day  ask 
the  high  and  mighty  clerk  to  show  her  how  to  unlock 
it  herself.  She  had  taken  a  dislike  to  Mark  for  no  reason 
at  all  except  that  he  was  made  too  much  of,  and  as  a  hotel 
clerk  had  no  business  to  be  so  gentlemanly  and  fine 
looking  and  hold  himself  in  so  dignified  a.  manner 
towards  her  as  if  he  felt  himself  to  be  her  equal.  The 
dislike  was  mutual,  for  Mark  had  decided  that  she  was 
a  proud,  exacting,  frivolous  woman,  whom  it  would  be 
hard  to  please. 

"Mamma,  I  think  you  were  very  uncivil  to  Mr.  Hilton, 
and  acted  as  if  you  were  afraid  to  trust  your  diamonds 
with  him,"  Helen  said  when  they  were  alone  in  their 
room. 

"To  tell  you  the  truth  I  was,"  Mrs.  Tracy  replied.  "I 
really  don't  know  why,  but  I  have  a  queer  feeling  with 
regard  to  him.  Mr.  Taylor  makes  quite  too  much  of 
him.  I  trust  you  will  teach  him  his  place  if  he  tries  to 


THE   DRIVE.  121 

step  out  of  it.  I  saw  him  looking  at  you  with  those 
queer  eyes  of  his  in  a  way  I  didn't  like.  They  have  a 
singular  trick  of  moving  round,  and  you  can't  help 
following  them." 

"Oh,  mamma,  a  cat  may  look  upon  a  king,  and  Mr. 
Hilton  may  surely  look  at  me,"  Helen  said,  knowing  per 
fectly  well  what  her  mother  meant  by  Mark's  eyes,  which 
compelled  you  to  meet  them,  whether  you  would  or  not. 

She  had  met  them  readily, — in  fact  had  rather  chal 
lenged  them  to  look  at  her,  and  then  had  sent  back  a 
glance  which  made  Mark's  blood  tingle.  No  woman  had 
ever  affected  him  as  she  did  and  after  he  knew  dinner 
was  over  in  the  salon  he  found  himself  constantly  watch 
ing  for  a  sight  of  her,  or  the  sound  of  her  voice.  Two 
or  three  times  he  went  round  to  the  north  piazza  hoping 
to  find  her  there,  but  Craig  sat  alone  poring  over  Brown 
ing  and  listening  occasionally  for  the  trail  of  a  skirt 
round  the  corner.  He  still  had  upon  the  table  the  lily 
Alice  had  given  him,  but  it  was  shrivelled  and  faded  and 
he  scarcely  knew  it  was  there.  The  rose  had  overshad 
owed  the  lily  and  Alice  was  forgotten. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

THE    DRIVE. 

AT  precisely  four  o'clock  Jeff  drove  the  hotel  carriage 
up  to  the  door  with  a  flourish  and  a  feint  as  if  it  were 
hard  to  hold  the  horses,  who  looked  like  anything  but 
runaways  and  would  have  dropped  their  heads  if  they  had 
not  been  checked  so  high.  Jeff  had  spent  two  hours  in 
scrubbing  the  carriage,  polishing  the  harness  and  rub- 


122  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

bing  down  the  horses.  His  divinity,  Miss  Alice,  was 
going  to  drive,  and  there  was  nothing  too  good  for  her. 
Helen  had  not  impressed  him  as  favorably  as  her  cousin. 
"She  don't  look  as  real  as  my  girl,"  he  had  thought  when 
he  first  saw  her,  and  he  never  had  cause  to  change  his 
opinion.  At  intervals  Uncle  Zach  had  superintended  the 
washing  and  polishing  and  rubbing  of  the  turnout  which 
he  said  couldn't  be  beaten  outside  of  Worcester,  and  he 
waited  with  a  good  deal  of  pride  for  the  effect  it  would 
have  upon  the  young  ladies. 

Alice  was  the  first  to  appear,  looking  very  cool  and 
fresh  and  pretty  in  her  dark  blue  serge  made  over  from 
a  last  year's  dress,  and  adapted  as  nearly  as  possible  to 
the  prevailing  style.  She  was  a  natural  dressmaker  and 
had  given  her  costume  a  few  .touches  of  her  own  ideas. 
Like  Uncle  Zach  Jeff  thought  her  a  daisy,  and  although 
Craig  and  Mark  were  both  there,  the  former  fastening 
his  gloves  and  the  latter  holding  the  reins  by  the  horses' 
heads,  he  gallantly  helped  her  to  the  back  seat  and 
smoothed  down  her  dress  with  the  air  of  a  much  older 
person.  Then  they  waited  five  minutes  and  ten  minutes 
until  the  young  men  began  to  get  impatient.  They  did 
not  know  that  Helen  was  seldom  on  time.  She  had 
taken  her  after  dinner  nap  and  bath  and  had  dawdled  in 
her  dressing,  notwithstanding  Celine's  efforts  to  hurry 
her.  When  at  last  she  did  appear  she  was  like  a  picture 
stepping  out  of  a  fashion  plate.  Her  tailor  made  dress 
and  jacket  were  without  a  flaw  in  style  and  fit,  her  gloves 
harmonized  perfectly  with  her  dress,  and  the  soft  light 
veil  twisted  around  her  sailor  hat  and  tied  in  a  big  bow 
under  her  chin  was  very  becoming.  In  the  morning  she 
had  worn  Mark's  rose;  this  afternoon  she  had  a  great 
clump  of  the  fleurs-de-lis,  Craig's  color,  fastened  to  her 
dress. 


THE   DRIVE.  123 

"Have  I  kept  you  waiting  long?  I  am  very  sorry," 
she  said,  with  such  an  air  of  penitence  that  both  Craig 
and  Mark  forgave  her,  assuring  her  that  it  was  of  no 
consequence.  "Alice,  I  know,  thinks  me  delinquent,"  she 
said.  "She  is  always  on  time;  always  doing  the  right 
thing." 

"That's  so,"  came  from  Jeff,  who  emphasized  his 
words  with  a  sudden  whopover  on  the  grass. 

They  all  laughed,  Helen  the  most  of  all. 

"You  see  you  have  an  admiring  champion,"  she  said 
to  Alice ;  then  to  Mark,  "You  are  to  drive,  I  conclude." 

"Yes,  I  go  in  the  capacity  of  driver  and  guide,  as  I 
know  all  the  points  of  interest,"  he  replied,  and  Helen 
continued,  "I  suppose  you  and  Mr.  Mason  should  sit  on 
the  front  seat,  and  Alice  and  I  on  the  back,  but  I  want 
to  drive  part  of  the  time,  and  if  you  do  not  mind  I  will 
sit  with  you." 

"I  shall  be  delighted,"  Mark  said,  and  in  his  delight 
he  dropped  the  reins  and  almost  lifted  Helen  to  her  place 
in  front. 

"Take  care  there !  take  care !"  Uncle  Zach  exclaimed, 
hopping  about  like  a  grasshopper  and  seizing  one  of  the 
horses  by  the  bit.  "You  didn't  or'to  be  so  rash  droppin' 
them  lines.  There's  no  knowin'  what  the  horses  will 
take  it  into  their  heads  to  do.  Virginny  is  frothin'  at 
her  mouth  now.  She'll  be  pawin'  next." 

"I  think  it's  the  high  check.  It  makes  her  neck  ache. 
Won't  you  please  lower  it?"  Alice  said. 

She  was  a  lover  of  animals  of  all  kinds  and  could  not 
bear  to  see  them  needlessly  pained.  The  high  checks 
were  Jeff's  idea,  but  if  Alice  wanted  them  lowered  they 
should  be,  and  he  at  once  let  them  out,  evidently  to  the 
satisfaction  of  the  horses,  who  shook  their  heads  as  if 
relieved  from  some  disagreeable  restraint,  Mrs.  Tracy, 


124  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

who  had  slept  longer  than  usual,  now  came  down  the 
walk,  with  a  frown  on  her  face  as  she  saw  where  her 
daughter  was  sitting. 

"Helen,"  she  said,  "Won't  you  be  more  comfortable 
with  Alice  ?  You  will  get  all  the  wind  and  sun  and  dust 
where  you  are,  and  burn  your  face.  Mr.  Mason  will 
change  with  you." 

"I  don't  want  him  to  change.  I  like  where  I  am. 
There  isn't  any  wind,  and  I  neither  freckle  nor  burn; 
besides  that  I  am  going  to  drive,"  Helen  replied. 

There  was  no  use  arguing  with  her,  and  Mrs.  Tracy 
could  only  look  her  disapproval,  while  Uncle  Zach,  still 
hopping  about  and  very  proud  for  this  fine  equipage  to 
be  seen  before  his  door  by  the  passers  by,  said  in  some 
alarm,  "Better  not  let  her  drive  till  the  horses  have  had 
some  of  the  wind  taken  out  of  their  sails.  They've  et 
two  quarts  of  oats  extra,  and  may  take  it  into  their  heads 
to  run  away  and  upset  the  kerridge." 

"Oh,  please  go  on,  or  we  shall  not  get  started  till  dark," 
Helen  said,  and  with  a  chirrup  to  the  horses  the  carriage 
started,  Uncle  Zach  taking  off  his  hat  to  it,  and  Jeff  in 
dulging  in  two  or  three  summersaults  as  it  went  rapidly 
up  the  street  and  past  the  houses  from  which  many  eyes 
looked  curiously  at  the  young  ladies  of  whom  every  one 
had  heard,  although  they  had  not  been  twenty-four  hours 
in  town. 

When  the  carriage  disappeared  Mrs.  Tracy,  who  evi 
dently  had  something  on  her  mind,  followed  Uncle 
Zacheus  into  the  office  and  said  in  her  most  insinuating, 
amiable  voice,  "Dear  Mr.  Taylor,  I  don't  want  to  be 
troublesome,  but  would  you  mind  opening  the  safe  for 
me?  I  mean  would  you  mind  showing  me  how  to  open 
it ;  then  when  I  feel  nervous  about  the  diamonds  I  can 
see  for  myself  that  they  are  there,  and  need  not  trouble 


THE  DRIVE.  125 

any  one.  I  could  ask  your  hired  man  to  show  me  if  he 
would,  but  I'd  rather  you  should  do  it." 

"My  hired  man !  Great  guns !  How  does  Joel  Otis 
know  anything  about  the  safe  ?"  Uncle  Zach  exclaimed, 
thinking  of  his  man  of  all  work.  , 

Mrs.  Tracy  saw  her  mistake  and  hastened  to  explain : 
"I  mean  your  clerk,  Mr.  what's  his  name?  He  is  hired, 
isn't  he?" 

"Why,  yes  ;  and  I  pay  him  a  good  round  sum.  He  s 
worth  it,  too,  and  runs  everything.  I  never  think  of 
caNin'  him  my  hired  man,  and  I  dunno's  he'd  like  me 
to  show  you  how  to  open  the  safe." 

"Surely  you  are  the  master  here,  aren't  you?"  Mrs. 
Tracy  asked,  in  a  tone  which  at  once  piqued  the  man's 
pride. 

"Of  course  I  am.  This  is  my  house.  What  did  you 
say  you  wanted  ?" 

"I  want  to  know  how  to  unlock  the  safe,  so  I  can  see 
my  diamonds  whenever  I  choose,"  Mrs.  Tracy  replied. 

Uncle  Zach  thought  a  minute,  standing  first  on  one 
foot,  then  on  the  other,  and  rubbing  his  bald  head  and 
wishing  Dot  were  there.  But  Dot  was  at  a  neighbor's, 
gossiping  about  her  city  boarders  and  their  elegant 
clothes,  even  their  night  dresses  trimmed  with  real  Va 
lenciennes  and  nothing  but  silk  stockings  for  every  day. 
Dot  could  not  help  him.  He  must  act  alone,  and  it  would 
not  do  to  disoblige  Mrs.  Tracy,  so  he  finally  said, 
"Wall,  seein'  it's  you,  I  don't  care  if  I  do,  though  I  mis 
trust  Mark  won't  like  it." 

"I  don't  see  what  business  it  is  of  Mark's.  The  safe 
is  yours,"  Mrs.  Tracy  replied. 

"That's  so,"  Uncle  Zach  rejoined,  and  in  a  minute  he 
was  explaining  to  the  lady  the  intricacies  of  the  lock. 

"The  word  is  'John,'  "  he  said.    "That's  our  little  boy 


126  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

who  died  and  is  down  in  the  cemetry.  For  J  you  give 
four  turns  so;  for  O  three  turns  so;  for  H  two  turns  so; 
for  N  a  final  jerk,  and  here  you  be.  No  you  ain't  neither ! 
What  ails  the  pesky  thing?"  he  exclaimed,  as  with  all 
his  right  and  left  turns  and  twists  and  yanks  the  safe 
resisted  his  efforts  to  open  it. 

He  tried  again  with  no  better  result ;  then  yielded  his 
place  to  Mrs.  Tracy,  to  whom  he  gave  the  most  minute 
directions.  She,  too,  failed  and  after  two  or  three  trials 
called  to  Celine,  whom  she  heard  on  the  piazza. 

"It's  strength  we  need,  and  Celine  has  it,"  she  said, 
explaining  to  the  girl  what  was  wanted  and  crouching 
down  by  her  as  she  tried  her  skill  on  the  obdurate  lock. 

Uncle  Zach  had  lost  his  wits  entirely,  and  went  down 
on  his  knees  to  assist  with  advice  and  orders. 

"Whew !"  came  through  the  window  in  a  tone  of  sur 
prise,  and  the  next  moment  Jeff  came  in  like  a  whirl 
wind,  and  made  the  fourth  in  the  group  by  the  safe. 
"What  are  you  up  to?"  he  asked,  and  at  sight  of  him 
Mrs.  Tracy,  remembering  what  Alice  had  told  her,  rose 
to  her  feet. 

Celine,  however,  had  no  such  prejudice,  and  she  ex 
plained  the  matter  very  volubly. 

"Pshaw!"  Jeff  said  contemptuously.  "Is  that  all? 
I'lll  bet  I  can  pick  the  lock,  give  me  time.  Any  way,  I 
can  open  it.  I've  seen  Mark  do  it  a  hundred  times. 
Get  out  of  the  way." 

He  spoke  to  Celine,  but  Mr.  Taylor  and  Mrs.  Tracy 
both  stepped  back  with  Celine,  leaving  Jeff  a  fair  field. 
It  did  not  take  him  long  to  open  the  door,  and  with  an. 
"I  told  you  I  could,"  he  disappeared,  leaving  Mrs.  Tracy 
no  better  off  than  she  was  before.  She  could  not  open 
the  door  after  it  was  shut,  for  she  tried  it  until  she  was 
tired,  and  scorning  to  ask  Jeff  to  teach  her,  gave  it  up, 


THE   DRIVE.  127 

saying  she  supposed  she  was  foolish  in  wishing  to  look 
at  her  diamonds  whenever  she  chose  without  calling 
on  any  one  to  assist  her,  but  something  made  her  very 
nervous  about  them. 

"Dot  gets  nervous  spells,  too,  about  nothin'.  It's  the 
way  of  wimmen,"  Uncle  Zacheus  said.  "I  guess  we 
better  not  let  Mark  know  we  tinkered  with  his  safe. 
He'd  be  awful  mad." 

"I  think  you  defer  too  much  to  the  opinion  of  an  em 
ployee.  It  spoils  them,"  Mrs.  Tracy  suggested,  and 
Uncle  Zach  replied,  "Can't  spile  Mark, — the  best  feller 
ever  born.  I'd  trust  him  with  my  life." 

Meanwhile  Mark  was  feeling  that  he  was  as  near 
Paradise  as  he  would  ever  be  until  he  reached  its  gates. 
It  was  a  good  deal  to  be  sitting  side  by  side  with  the  most 
beautiful  girl  he  had  ever  seen,  and  it  was  still  more  to 
have  the  beautiful  girl  as  friendly  and  gracious  as  she 
was,  treating  him  as  if  she  had  known  him  for  years, 
and  seldom  looking  back  to  speak  to  Craig,  whom  she 
left  entirely  to  Alice.  She  professed  to  be  enchanted 
with  everything,  and  her  face  glowed  with  excitement. 
The  spirit,  which  in  one  of  her  confidences  with  Alice 
she  had  ascribed  to  his  satanic  majesty  whom  she  called 
the  old  gentleman  was  upon  her,  and  she  could  no 
more  help  flirting  with  Mark  Hilton  than  she  could  have 
helped  breathing.  Craig's  reserve  had  piqued  her,  but 
while  ignoring  him  she  didn't  forget  him  at  all,  or  lose 
a  word  he  was  saying  to  Alice.  He  was  the  fish  she 
meant  to  draw  into  her  net  eventually,  but  she  was  very 
happy  watching  Mark  getting  more  and  more  entangled 
in  her  meshes. 

It  was  a  lovely  summer  afternoon  and  owing  to  the 
heavy  rain  of  the  previous  night  the  road  was  neither 
dusty  nor  rough,  and  for  a  time  Paul  and  Virginia  did 


128  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

credit  to  Uncle  Zach's  praise  of  them  and  trotted  on 
without  a  sign  of  lagging.  Mark  still  held  the  lines,  but 
when  they  had  crossed  the  river  and  the  causeway  and 
were  out  among  the  hills  Helen  said  to  him,  "Don't  you 
believe  the  bloods  have  digested  that  two  quarts  of  oats 
by  this  time  and  had  the  wind  taken  out  of  their  sails 
sufficiently  for  me  to  drive." 

She  held  out  her  hands  for  the  lines  which  Mark  gave 
to  her,  asking  if  she  had  ever  driven  much. 

"No,"  she  said,  "but  I  want  to  learn,  and  I  like  to 
drive  fast  and  feel  the  wind  on  my  face.  Touch  them, 
please,  with  the  whip." 

Mark  touched  Paul,  while  woman-like  Helen  jerked 
the  reins  and  told  them  to  go  on,  which  they  did  at  a 
rapid  rate,  until  a  long,  steep  hill  was  reached,  or  rather 
a  succession  of  short  hills,  with  level  spaces  like  plateaus 
between.  Up  two  of  these  hills  the  bloods  pullsd  steadily, 
but  stopped  at  the  third,  while  Paul  looked  back  ex 
pectantly  and  Virginia  laid  her  head  against  his  neck  in 
a  caressing  kind  of  way. 

"What  have  they  stopped  for?  Get  up!  Get  up!" 
Helen  said,  but  her  get  ups  were  unavailing. 

Paul  still  looked  back  and  Virginia  finally  joined  him 
while  Mark  and  Craig  laughed  aloud.  Craig  had  been 
up  that  hill,  which  was  known  as  the  mile  hill  and  was 
rough  and  stony,  but  had  at  its  summit  one  of  the  finest 
views  in  the  surrounding  country.  He  knew  the  habits 
of  the  horses  and  wondered  that  they  had  not  stopped 
sooner  and  signified  their  wish  for  the  load  to  be  light 
ened,  especially  as  it  was  more  than  double  now  with 
four  people  and  the  carryall  to  what  it  had  been  with 
himself  and  Uncle  Zach  and  a  light  buggy. 

"What  are  they  stopping  for?"  Helen  asked  again,  and 
Craig  replied,  "Stopping  for  us  to  get  out  and  walk. 


THE  DRIVE.  129 

Have  you  never  heard  that  the  horses  in  Norway  are 
brought  up  to  do  that?  I  fancy  the  bloods  may  have 
come  from  that  region." 

Alice  sprang  out  in  a  moment  and  began  to  pat  Vir 
ginia,  whose  eyes  were  beginning  to  have  in  them  a 
dangerous  gleam  as  she  felt  the  weight  of  the  load  behind 
her  and  saw  the  long  steep  hill  in  front,  with  still  another 
and  another  beyond.  Craig  alighted,  too,  and  so  did 
Mark,  and  tried  to  coax  the  horses  to  move  on.  At  first 
Paul  seemed  inclined  to  do  so,  and  turned  half  way 
towards  Virginia,  who,  true  to  her  sex,  stood  her  ground 
and  would  not  budge.  She  knew  there  was  still  one 
occupant  in  the  carriage  and  until  all  were  out  she  would 
stay  where  she  was. 

"Make  them  go.  Give  them  the  whip.  I'm  not  going 
to  walk  up  that  mountain  to  please  any  brute,"  Helen 
said,  beginning  to  grow  impatient. 

Mark  knew  better  than  to  use  the  whip,  much  as  he 
wished  to  do  so.  Paul  might  not  resent  it,  bur  Virginia 
was  of  a  different  make  and  knew  how  to  use  her  heels 
if  thwarted  in  having  her  way. 

"How  long  do  you  think  she  will  stand  hers  if  I  don't 
get  out?"  Helen  asked,  and  Mark  replied,  "All  night,  I 
dare  say.  She  is  gentle  enough  except  about  the  hills, 
which  she  abominates.  She  was  born  on  a  western 
ranche.  Hadn't  you  better  give  in?" 

"No,  never,"  Helen  said  laughingly.  "I'll  not  be 
beaten  by  a  horse.  I  can  stay  here  as  long  as  she  can, 
if  you'll  stay  with  me." 

"Of  course  I'll  stay,"  Mark  said,  and  folding  his  arms 
resigned  himself  to  the  situation,  wondering  which  would 
give  in  first,  the  woman  or  the  beast. 

Neither  showed  any  signs  of  it,  and  he  began  to  think 
what  he  should  do.  Craig  and  Alice  had  walked  on 


THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

slowly,  sometimes  stopping  to  gather  wild  flowers  and 
sometimes  sitting  on  a  boulder  to  rest.  Evidently  they 
were  enjoying  themselves,  for  more  than  once  Alice's 
merry  laugh  came  down  the  hill  and  Helen  saw  Craig 
pinning  some  field  flowers  on  her  hat.  Suddenly  it  struck 
her  more  forcibly  than  it  had  ever  done  before  that  Alice 
was  just  the  one  to  attract  a  man  like  Craig.  This  would 
never  do,  for  whatever  her  relations  to  Mark  might  be 
she  looked  upon  Craig  as  her  property. 

"I  submit  to  the  inevitable,"  she  said,  extending  her 
arms  to  Mark,  who  lifted  her  very  carefully  and  set  her 
down  upon  the  grass  with  a  slight  pressure  of  which  he 
was  scarcely  conscious,  but  which  Helen  felt  and  knew 
that  her  subjugation  of  him  was  complete. 

He  was  her  slave  and  she  could  now  give  her  atten 
tion  to  Craig.  She  had  said  she  could  not  walk  up  the 
hill,  but  she  did  walk  very  rapidly  until  she  reached  the 
boulder  on  which  Alice  and  Craig  were  seated.  Then  she 
grew  so  tired  and  exhausted  and  faint  that  when  at  last 
they  started  up  the  remainder  of  the  declivity  she  said 
to  Alice,  "I  must  lean  on  you  or  never  get  there." 

This  was  surprising  to  Alice,  who  had  heard  her  cousin 
boast  of  her  ability  to  walk  miles  among  the  Alps  and 
knew  that  she  had  walked  up  Mt.  Washington  without 
apparent  fatigue. 

"Let  me  assist  you,"  Craig  said,  offering  her  his  arm, 
and  finally  passing  it  round  her  the  better  to  support 
her  when  he  felt  her  totter  as  if  about  to  fall. 

He  was  very  kind,  and  the  weaker  and  fainter  she 
grew  the  kinder  he  became  and  the  closer  he  held  her, 
while  he  tried  to  divert  her  by  laughing  at  the  idiosyn 
crasies  of  Paul  and  Virginia,  who  were  rushing  up  the 
hill  with  a  rapidity  which  compelled  Mark  to  run  to 
keep  pace  with  them.  Of  the  two  he  was  more  exhausted 


THE  DRIVE.  131 

than  Helen  when  the  crest  of  the  hill  was  reached,  for 
lie  was  white  about  the  lips  and  the  perspiration  was 
standing  in  great  drops  on  his  face.  But  he  gave  no 
thought  to  himself  when  he  saw  how  limp  and  helpless 
Helen  seemed  as  she  sank  down  upon  a  broken  bit  of 
stone  wall  and  closed  her  eyes  wearily. 

"You  are  not  going  to  faint  ?  You  must  not  faint  here 
where  there  is  no  water,  and  nothing  but  this  hartshorn," 
Alice  said  with  energy,  giving  Helen  a  little  shake  as  her 
head  fell  over  on  Craig's  shoulder,  the  only  place  where 
it  could  rest  easily. 

She  did  not  look  like  fainting,  for  her  color  was  as 
brilliant  as  ever,  but  she  kept  her  eyes  shut  while  Alice 
held  smelling  salts  to  her  nose,  and  Mark  and  Craig 
fanned  her  with  their  hats,  the  former  envying  the  latter 
his  position  with  his  arm  now  entirely  round  her  and 
her  head  on  his  shoulder.  Suddenly  Mark  exclaimed : 
"There  is  a  spring  not  far  from  here  where  I  can  get 
some  water  in  my  hat,"  and  he  darted  off  in  the  direction 
of  a  clump  of  trees.  Helen  was  perfectly  quiet  until 
Mark  came  back  with  his  straw  hat  half  full  of  water. 
Then  she  started  up  with  a  laugh  and  throwing  back  her 
head  said,  "I  am  all  right  now.  It  was  a  little  touch  of 
the  heart,  climbing  the  steep  hill.  I  hope  I  haven't  made 
a  lot  of  trouble." 

She  looked  down  at  Craig  still  sitting  on  the  stone 
wall,  then  at  Mark  holding  his  hat  with  the  water  drip 
ping  from  it.  From  this  she  recoiled  and  held  back  her 
dress  lest  a  drop  should  fall  upon  it. 

"I  am  awfully  sorry  about  your  hat.  Do  you  think 
you  have  spoiled  it?"  she  asked,  giving  him  a  look  which 
she  knew  always  did  its  work  and  which  made  Mark  feel 
that  the  price  of  forty  hats  would  scarcely  pay  for  a  look 
like  that. 


{32  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

He  and  Craig  were  greatly  relieved  at  her  recovery, 
and  assisted  her  to  the  carriage,  one  on  either  side,  while 
she  made  a  protest  against  being  helped,  when  she  was 
perfectly  able  to  walk  by  herself. 

"Did  you  ever  have  an  attack  like  this  before?"  Alice 
asked. 

Helen  gave  her  a  warning  look  and  answered,  "Not 
exactly  like  this.  My  heart  has  troubled  me  some.  Let 
us  go  home,  please,  before  I  do  anything  more  that  is 
foolish." 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  RETURN    HOME. 

MARK  put  her  into  the  carriage  on  the  seat  with  Alice 
where  she  wished  to  sit.  She  had  accomplished  her  ob 
ject.  She  had  made  both  men  dance  to  her  music  and 
was  satisfied  to  take  a  back  seat  and  to  admire  the  splen 
did  view  from  the  top  of  the  hill.  The  river,  the  mead 
ows,  the  ponds,  the  wooded  hills  and  several  distant  vil 
lages  were  spread  out  before  them  in  a  grand  panorama. 

"It  is  lovely  and  I  am  glad  you  brought  us  here," 
Helen  said,  leaning  from  the  carriage,  more  conscious 
of  the  admiration  she  was  exciting  than  of  the  view  for 
which  she  really  cared  but  little. 

"I  came  this  way  to  show  it  to  you,"  Mark  said,  "but 
I'll  never  try  it  again  with  these  blooded  brutes." 

They  were  very  quiet  and  docile  now  and  continued 
so  all  the  way  home,  and  although  there  were  several 
hills  to  go  up  and  down  they  neither  flinched  nor  stopped. 
Virginia,  who  was  the  ruling  spirit,  would  put  her  head 
over  against  Paul's  neck  when  the  hill  was  steeper  than 


THE   RETURN    HOME.  133 

usual,  and  with  a  little  neigh  seemed  coaxing  him  to 
good  behavior;  then,  squaring  her  shoulders  for  the 
effort,  plunged  up  the  ascent  at  a  pace  which  showed  she 
at  least  had  no  heart  trouble.  Mark  took  the  party 
round  one  of  the  ponds  and  into  the  village  the  opposite 
way  from  which  they  had  left  it.  The  road  was  past  the 
Dalton  House  which  caught  Alice's  attention  at  once. 
The  windows  had  nearly  all  been  broken  and  the  setting 
sun  poured  a  flood  of  light  through  them  into  the  empty 
rooms.  A  mass  of  woodbine  had  climbed  up  one  of  the 
gables  to  the  top  of  the  chimney,  around  which  it  had 
twined  itself  with  graceful  curves,  and  on  one  of  its 
branches,  which  swayed  in  the  wind,  a  robin  was  sing 
ing  his  evening  song. 

"Look,  Helen,  what  a  picturesque  old  ruin.  It  must 
have  a  history,"  Alice  said. 

Before  Helen  could  reply  Mark  rejoined,  "That  is  the 
haunted  house.  You'll  hear  enough  about  it  if  you  stay 
here  long.  It  has  something  to  do  with  me." 

Helen  was  interested  at  once  and  asked  that  the  horses 
be  stopped  while  she  looked  at  the  ruin. 

"The  advertisement  mamma  saw  had  in  it  something 
about  a  haunted  house,  put  in  to  attract  attention,  I  sup 
pose.  Is  this  it,  and  is  it  really  haunted,  and  what  had 
you  to  do  with  it?  Was  somebody  killed  here?  How 
dreadful !  I  dote  on  haunted  houses,"  she  said  flippantly. 

For  a  minute  Mark  made  no  reply ;  then  he  answered 
in  a  tone  she  had  never  heard  before,  "My  great-grand 
father  was  killed  here,  and  the  credulous  people  say  his 
wife  comes  back  to  visit  the  scene  of  the  tragedy." 

"Poor  thing!  Where  is  she  now?"  Helen  asked  at 
random. 

Mark  laughed  and  thought  of  the  withered  rose 
in  his  pocket  book  and  the  grave  from  which  he  picked 


134  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

it;    then  he  said,  "Hard  telling  where  she  is.     She  has 
been  dead  nearly  a  hundred  years." 

"How  sad;  died  of  a  broken  heart,  I  suppose,"  was 
Helen's  next  remark. 

Craig  moved  uneasily,  wondering  what  Mark  would 
reply,  and  wholly  unprepared  for  his  quick  answer,  "Died 
of  a  broken  neck !  She  was  hung !" 

Helen  gave  a  little  screech  and  fell  back  against  the 
cushioned  seat,  while  Alice  turned  pale  with  wonder  and 
surprise. 

"That's  my  pedigree, — my  heredity,"  Mark  went  on, 
with  a  certain  defiance  in  his  voice.  "Mr.  Taylor  will 
tell  you  all  about  it,  if  you  ask  him.  It  is  his  crack 
story ;  but  remember  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it." 

He  turned  and  looked  at  Helen,  who  met  his  look  with 
tears  in  her  eyes. 

"I  am  so  sorry,"  she  said,  very  softly,  and  the  words 
and  the  tears  compensated  for  the  shame  Mark  had  felt 
when  he  avowed  his  ancestry. 

"I  am  glad  I  was  the  first  to  tell  it,"  he  thought,  as 
he  told  the  horses  to  go  on. 

Not  another  word  was  spoken  till  the  hotel  was 
reached ;  then,  as  Mark  helped  Helen  out,  she  said  to 
him  again,  "I  am  sorry  I  gave  you  pain." 

"And  I  am  glad  you  did,"  was  his  answer. 

They  found  Uncle  Zach  in  the  depths  of  humiliation 
and  remorse.  He  had  confessed  to  Dot  the  affair  with 
the  safe  and  received  so  severe  a  castigation  from  her 
tongue  that  he  had  crept  up  to  the  garret  and  looked  at 
"Taylor's  Tavern"  and  Johnny's  blanket,  and  the  en 
velope  with  Zacheus  Taylor  Esq.  on  it  and  had  sat  a 
long  time  on  the  trunk  wondering  if  he  were  a  fool,  with 
no  more  judgment  than  a  child,  as  Dot  said  he  was. 

"I  guess  I  be,"  he  said,  "but  if  Johnny  had  lived  I 


THE   RETURN   HOME.  135 

b'lieve  I'd  been  more  of  a  man;"  and  a  few  hot  teats 
fell  upon  the  yellow  blanket  which  was  once  little 
Johnny's. 

The  sight  of  Taylor's  Tavern  did.not  have  its  usual  up 
lifting  effect,  for  there  was  still  Mark  to  meet.  But 
Mark  did  not  prove  very  formidable.  Jeff  had  told  him 
the  whole  story,  blaming  Mrs.  Tracy  most,  and  saying, 
"If  I's  you,  I'd  let  him  off  easy.  The  old  lady  lammed 
him  till  he  felt  so  small  you  could  put  him  in  a  coffee  pot. 
It  hain't  done  no  harm.  He'd  forgot  how  to  work  the 
combination.  Miss  Tracy  can't  open  it,  nor  Celine, 
neither.  Nobody  but  me." 

"And  if  I  ever  catch  you  at  it  I'll  break  every  bone  in 
your  body,"  Mark  said,  expending  his  wrath  on  the  boy, 
who,  with  a  laugh,  went  rolling  off  on  the  grass. 

"I  didn't  or'to  do  it;  no,  I  didn't  or'ter,"  Uncle  Zach 
said,  half  an  hour  later  to  Mark,  who  answered,  "That's 
so;  but  I  reckon  no  harm  is  done.  Jeff  is  the  only  one 
who  is  any  wiser,  and  we  can  manage  him." 

Thus  reassured  Uncle  Zach  brightened  wonderfully, 
and  inquired  if  Paul  and  Virginny  had  kept  up  their 
character. 

"Yes,  more  than  kept  it  up,"  Craig  answered  for  Mark. 

He  had  come  to  the  office  to  drop  into  the  letter  box  a 
hastily  written  postal  to  his  coachman  in  Auburndale, 
telling  him  to  send  up  Dido  and  his  new  light  buggy  at 
once.  He  had  made  up  his  mind  to  this  that  afternoon 
and  already  anticipated  the  pleasure  it  would  be  to  drive 
over  the  Ridgefield  hills  with  the  young  ladies,  meaning 
mostly  Helen,  who  had  woven  her  spell  around  him  when 
lie  sat  on  the  broken  wall  with  his  arm  supporting  her 
and  her  head  on  his  shoulder.  His  mother  might  not 
approve,  but  he  was  old  enough  to  act  for  himself.  To 
go  out  with  the  bloods  again  was  impossible.  So  Dido 


136  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

was  sent  for,  and  Craig  told  his  mother  of  it  before  he 
went  to  bed. 

Mrs.  Mason  made  no  comment  except  to  ask  how 
soon  he  expected  his  horse.  He  didn't  know, — within 
three  days  at  the  latest,  and  glad  that  his  mother  had 
taken  the  matter  so  quietly,  he  said  good  night  and  went 
to  his  room  to  dream  of  laughing  brown  eyes,  which  had 
stirred  in  him  feelings  he  had  never  believed  could  be 
stirred  by  one  whom  he  had  not  known  twenty-four 
hours. 

Mark,  too,  had  his  dreams, — wakeful  ones, — which  for 
a  long  time  would  not  let  him  sleep.  Every  pulse  was  vi 
brating  with  the  feverish  madness  which  had  possessed 
him  since  he  first  looked  into  Helen  Tracy's  face  and 
had  strengthened  with  each  moment  he  had  been  with 
her. 

"I'll  win  her,  too,"  was  his  last  conscious  thought,  as 
he  dropped  into  an  uneasy  sleep,  in  which  Helen  and 
'Tina  and  Paul  and  Virginia  were  pretty  eagerly  blend 
ed. 

Helen  also  had  her  dreams  or  schemes,  which  she  com 
municated  to  Alice,  whom  she  asked  into  her  room  be 
fore  going  to  bed. 

"It  is  quick  to  make  up  my  mind  when  I  have  only 
known  them  a  day,"  she  said,  "but  it  seems  to  me  I 
have  known  them  years,  so  much  happened  in  that  ab 
surd  drive  with  those  wretched  bloods,  as  Mr.  Taylor 
calls  them.  I  am  perfectly  fascinated  with  Apollo,  not 
withstanding  the  terrible  thing  he  told  us.  I  was  so 
sorry  for  him  I  could  have  cried.  Mrs.  Taylor  told  me 
some  of  the  story  after  supper  when  you  were  on  the 
piazza.  It  is  very  interesting,  but  too  long  to  repeat  to 
night.  It  was  a  case  of  a  woman  loving  some  man  better 
than  her  husband  and  getting  that  man  to  kill  him.  It 


THE   RETURN   HOME.  137 

often  happens,  you  know.  The  great-grandfather  was  a 
Dalton, — a  splendid  family.  Mamma  has  heard  of  them. 
There's  a  governor  and  a  judge  and  a  good  many  more 
things  somewhere,  but  they  have  always  ignored  Apollo's 
branch  because  of  that  woman,  'Tina  somebody.  She 
was  from  a  good  family,  too, — but  if  a  woman  does  not 
love  her  husband  and  does  love  some  one  else,  what 
would  you  have  ?" 

"Not  murder,  certainly,"  Alice  said,  vehemently,  and 
Helen  replied,  "Of  course  not.  How  you  startled  me, 
and  how  funny  you  look,  as  if  I  were  defending  'Tina. 
I  am  not.  I  am  defending  Mr.  Hilton,  and  shall  treat  him 
just  the  same  as  if  his  grandmother  hadn't  ki:led  some 
body.  If  he  were  only  the  Sphinx  and  the  Sphinx  were 
Apollo,  I  should  be  so  glad.  There  is  more  warmth, 
more  magnetism  about  him,  but  it  is  not  to  be  thought 
of.  Helen  Tracy  and  a  hotel  clerk !  That  would  be 
funny.  He  must  have  sense  enough  to  know  it,  so  there 
will  be  no  harm  in  enjoying  myself  with  him,  and  being 
in  earnest  with  the  other  one,  of  whom  I  really  think  I 
can  learn  to  be  fond.  It  came  to  me  when  I  was  sitting 
on  the  wall  with  his  arm  around  me,  and  you  all  thinking 
I  was  faint." 

"And  weren't  you?"  Alice  asked,  in  a  voice  which 
made  Helen  look  at  her  quickly,  as  she  answered,  "Not  a 
bit.  I  was  tired  walking  up  that  horrid  hill  in  boots  a 
size  too  small  and  which  hurt  me  every  step  I  took,  but 
I  wasn't  faint.  I  was  making  believe." 

"Why?"  Alice  asked,  sternly,  and  Helen  replied, 
"Don't  be  so  cross.  I  always  tell  you  everything,  you 
know,  and  it  was  really  nothing  more  than  lots  of  girls  do. 
I  was  tired  and  could  have  screamed  with  the  pain  in  my 
feet,  and  then  they  seemed  so  concerned  I  thought  I'd 
put  on  a  little  just  to  see  what  they  would  do.  I  hope  I 


138  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

posed  gracefully.  My  heart  did  beat  faster  than  usual 
with  the  climb,  so  it  wasn't  much  of  a  fib,  but  I  wasn't 
going  to  have  my  dress  and  veil  and  gloves  spoiled  with 
that  water  which,  I  dare  say,  he  would  have  dashed  all 
over  me  if  I  hadn't  recovered  in  time  to  prevent  it.  It 
was  a  jolly  lark  and  pretty  good  for  the  first  day  in  Ridge- 
field." 

Alice  did  not  answer.  The  soul  of  truthfulness  herself, 
she  could  scarcely  imagine  her  cousin  guilty  of  so  con 
temptible  a  ruse  for  the  sake  of  attention  and  adimration. 
She  knew  she  was  a  flirt,  but  not  of  this  sort,  and  hte'r 
good  night  was  rather  constrained  and  cold  when  she  at 
last  said  it  and  went  to  her  room. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

PROGRESS. 

THREE  weeks  had  passed  of  glorious  summer  weather, 
which  the  guests  at  the  Prospect  House  had  enjoyed  to 
the  full.  There  had  been  sails  on  the  river,  walks  under 
the  Liberty  elms,  and  drives  among  the  hills  and  through 
the  woods,  off  into  the  lanes  where  solitary  farmhouses 
stood,  and  where  the  inmates  looked  curiously  at  the 
stylish  turnout  and  high  buggy  with  its  red  wheels,  and 
at  the  young  people  whom  they  designated  the  "swells 
from  town."  Paul  and  Virginia  were  no  longer  called 
into  service,  but  in  the  pasture  north  of  the  hotel  fed  and 
drank  at  their  leisure  from  the  running  brook  and  the 
fresh  green  grass,  and  when  the  sun  was  hottest  stood 
under  the  shade  of  a  huge  butternut  tree,  their  heads  to 
gether,  but  held  down  as  if  they  knew  they  had.  been 


PROGRESS.  139 

set  aside  by  a  city  rival  and  were  rather  sorry  for  it.  In 
the  only  box  stall  the  hotel  boasted  Dido,  when  not  on 
duty,  munched  her  hay  and  oats,  slept  on  her  bed  of  clean 
straw  and  whinnied  a  welcome  whenever  her  master 
appeared,  although  his  appearance  was  the  herald  of  a 
long  and  fatiguing  drive.  She  had  been  sent  at  once  in 
response  to  Craig's  postal,  and  the  young  man  had  har 
nessed  and  driven  her  with  a  great  deal  of  pride  up  the 
hill  and  through  the  village  to  the  door  of  the  hotel, 
where  the  entire  house  had  come  out  to  welcome  her. 

Helen,  who  had  a  suspicion  that  she  had  been  sent  for 
on  her  account,  was  very  effusive,  calling  the  horse  a 
darling  and  winding  her  arms  around  its  neck,  when  as 
sured  there  was  no  danger.  Dido  liked  to  be  petted,  and 
she  had  it  in  full  measure,  from  Helen  to  Uncle  Zach, 
who,  while  praising  Dido,  insisted  that  if  "Virginny  had 
the  same  trainin'  and  the  same  care  she'd  of  been  about 
as  good."  Naturally  Mrs.  Mason  was  the  first  whom 
Craig  took  to  drive,  then  Mrs.  Tracy, — and  then  Airs. 
Taylor,  who,  Uncle  Zach  said,  looked  with  her  two  hun 
dred  pounds  "as  if  she  was  squashing  Craig  to  death 
on  that  narrer  seat."  She  never  went  but  once ;  neither 
did  Mrs.  Tracy,  and  the  drives  were  mostly  given  up  to 
Helen  and  Alice.  Craig  had  intended  to  take  one  as  often 
as  the  other,  but  it  so  happened  that  Alice  went  occa 
sionally,  and  Helen  very  often.  She  needed  the  exercise, 
her  mother  said,  and  was  apt  to  have  a  headache  when 
she  missed  it,  and  she  looked  so  beautiful  and  happy 
when  she  came  down  the  walk  to  the  buggy  that  Craig 
always  felt  glad  it  was  Helen  instead  of  Alice,  and  always 
wondered  when  he  returned  why  he  was  more  tired  than 
when  he  had  driven  with  Alice.  Helen  fatigued  and  in 
toxicated  him,  she  was  so  full  of  spirits  and  extravagant 
exclamations  of  delight  and  small  talk,  to  which  he 


THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

could  not  respond,  although  he  tried  to  do  so,  and  felt 
that  she  was  laughing  at  him  for  his  awkwardness.  And 
still  he  was  very  happy  and  proud  to  have  her  with  him, 
and,  like  the  foolish  fly,  was  drawn  closer  and  closer  into 
her  net. 

With  Alice  it  was  different.  She  was  never  gushing, 
nor  effusive.  She  never  laughed  up  into  his  face,  nor  took 
off  her  gloves  because  her  hands  were  warm  and  asked 
him  to  button  them  for  her  when  she  put  them  on,  as 
Helen  did.  She  was  quiet  and  enjoyed  everything  in  a 
quiet  way  and  talked  of  what  interested  him  most, — 
books,  and  art,  and  his  college  life.  With  the  one  girl 
he  was  himself  and  in  his  right  mind,  with  the  other  he 
was  giddy  and  dazed ;  bewitched,  his  mother  thought,  as 
she  watched  the  progress  of  affairs,  but  wisely  kept 
silent,  knowing  that  interference  on  her  part  would  be  of 
no  avail. 

Mark  Hilton,  too,  was  a  silent  and  watchful  specta 
tor  of  what  seemed  a  serious  flirtation  between  the  two, 
— the  flirtation  on  Helen's  side,  the  seriousness  on 
Craig's.  But  Mark  was  not  unhappy,  and  bided  his 
time.  He  did  not  drive  with  Helen,  nor  sail  with  her 
on  the  river,  nor  walk  under  the  Liberty  elms,  but  there 
were  many  chance  meetings  when  her  eyes  shone  on  him 
just  as  brightly  as  they  did  on  Craig,  and  her  smile  was 
just  as  sweet.  Once,  when  Mrs.  Tracy  was  asleep  and 
Alice  was  driving  with  Craig,  he  went  with  her  to  the 
cemetery  on  the  pretext  of  visiting  her  grandfather's 
monument,  which  she  had  never  seen  except  at  a  dis 
tance.  From  the  monument  to  the  angle  in  the  wall 
where  'Tina  was  buried  was  not  very  far,  and  Mark  pur 
posely  took  her  that  way,  and  said  to  her,  half  mocking 
ly,  half  sadly,  "We  have  visited  the  graves  of  your  an 
cestors,  now  I  want  you  to  visit  mine.  These  are  the 


PROGRESS.  141 

Dalton  graves ;  this  is  my  great-grandfather's ;  that  his 
wife's, — 'Tina,  people  call  her.  You  have  probably 
heard  the  story  since  the  night  we  passed  the  house. 
Mr.  Taylor  is  rather  fond  of  telling  it,  and  pointing  me 
out  as  a  descendant." 

"Mrs.  Taylor  told  me  something,  but  I'd  like  to  hear 
it  from  you,  who  would  tell  it  differently,"  Helen  said. 

"I  wrill  tell  you,  certainly,"  Mark  replied,  "Sit  here;" 
and  he  led  her  to  the  low  wall,  the  top  of  which  was  very 
wide  and  covered  with  large  smooth  stones. 

The  thick  branches  of  a  willow  tree  shaded  it  from  the 
sun  and  hid  it  from  the  highway.  Birds  were  singing 
among  the  willows,  and  the  low  murmur  of  a  brook  fall 
ing  over  a  miniature  dam  the  school  children  had  made, 
could  be  distinctly  heard.  Altogether,  it  was  a  most  ro 
mantic  place  to  sit  and  hear  the  story,  which  Mark  told, 
keeping  back  nothing,  nor  trying  to  soften  the  guilt  of 
the  woman  who  had  been  dust  for  many  a  year.  As  he 
talked  Helen  was  very  attentive,  and  once,  when  he 
spoke  of  the  child  calling  for  its  mother,  she  put  her  hand 
on  his  arm,  "Please  don't  tell  me  any  more,"  she  said, 
"I  can't  bear  it,  and  I  am  so  sorry  for  you ;  that  is,  if 
you  care.  I  should  not,  if  I  were  you.  It  was  so  long 
ago." 

She  was  all  sympathy.  Her  face  and  eyes  shone  with 
it,  and  the  latter  wrere  full  of  tears.  She  could  cry  almost 
as  easily  as  she  could  smile,  and  she  had  never  looked 
fairer  to  Mark  than  she  did  now,  with  the  tears  on  her 
long  lashes  and  her  hand  on  his  arm.  She  had  forgot 
ten  to  remove  it  until  he  put  his  on  it  in  token  that  he 
appreciated  her  sympathy.  Then  she  withdrew  it  and 
said,  "Don't  you  think  it  time  we  were  going ;  Mr.  Mason 
and  Alice  must  be  coming  home  soon?" 

"Is  that  any  reason  why  ice  should  go?"  Mark  asked, 


142 


THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 


with  a  look  she  could  not  mistake  and  from  which  she 
turned  her  eyes  away. 

Much  as  she  enjoyed  the  situation  she  felt  that  it  was 
getting  rather  too  personal,  and  was  glad  when,  as  if  in 
answer  to  her  mention  of  Craig  and  Alice,  the  sound  of 
wheels  was  heard  and  Dido  came  dashing  through  the 
avenue  of  willows  close  to  where  she  was  sitting.  Mark's 
impulse  was  to  keep  quiet  and  he  made  a  sign  to  Helen 
to  do  so.  But  the  sight  of  Craig  and  Alice  together 
marred  the  bit  of  romance  and  almost  love-making  in 
which  she  was  an  actor,  and  springing  to  her  feet  she 
waved  her  handkerchief  and  called  out  loud  enough  to 
attract  their  attention  and  make  Craig  rein  Dido  up  sud 
denly,  while  he  asked  what  she  was  doing  in  the  cem 
etery. 

"Seeing  the  old  graves.  I've  never  been  here  before. 
Mr.  Hilton  is  with  me.  We  are  coming  at  once." 

She  was  over  the  wall  by  this  time  and  Mark  felt 
obliged  to  follow  her,  cursing  the  luck  which  had  sent 
Craig  in  his  way  and  transformed  Helen  from  the  tearful, 
sympathetic  woman  into  the  gay,  coquettish  girl,  who 
insisted  that  Craig  should  let  Dido  walk,  while  she 
walked  beside  them,  asking  where  they  had  been,  what 
they  had  seen  and  wholly  ignoring  Mark,  who,  at  last, 
when  he  met  some  one  to  whom  he  wished  to  speak, 
asked  to  be  excused,  and  left  her. 

•'Polite,  I  must  say,"  was  Helen's  laughing  comment, 
as  she  chattered  on,  evidently  oblivious  of  the  man  who 
had  held  her  hand  in  his  and  for  whom  her  tears  had 
fallen  rather  copiously. 

Mark  did  not  forget  it,  and  when  that  evening  he  saw 
her  on  the  piazza  settee  with  Craig  beside  her,  his  arm 
across  the  top  of  the  seat,  but  not  touching  her  unless  she 
leaned  far  back,  as  she  occasionally  did,  he  smiled  and 


PROGRESS.  143 

thought,  "It  is  an  even  race,  and  I  know  her  better  than 
he  does." 

Where  Craig  trusted  he  had  no  suspicion.  He  had 
come  to  believe  in  Helen,  and  was  pretty  far  on  the  road 
to  being  in  love  with  her,  but  his  matter-of-fact,  quiet 
liking  bore  no  comparison  to  the  passion  which  pos 
sessed  Mark  Hilton,  who,  as  he  had  said,  knew  the  girl 
better  than  Craig  knew  her,  and  knew  how  much  her 
tears  and  sympathy  and  pretty  words  were  worth,  and 
was  still  determined  to  win  her.  Craig  could  drive  with 
her  and  walk  with  her  and  sit  with  her  on  the  piazza. 
where  others  passed  and  repassed  and  feel  himself  su 
premely  happy.  To  Mark,  Heaven  came  down  into  the 
shadowy  corners  of  the  old  hotel  and  into  the  office 
when  no  one  was  present  to  hear  the  low-spoken  words, 
not  of  love  exactly,  but  merging  rapidly  toward  it  with 
the  lingering  touch  of  the  hands  when  accident  brought 
them  together, — the  conscious  look  in  the  eyes, — and  the 
sudden  starting  apart  when  a  third  party  appeared. 
Could  Mrs.  Tracy  have  known  all  this  she  would  have 
told  her  daughter  she  was  acting  the  part  of  a  bar  maid 
with  a  bartender.  But  she  did  not  know  or  suspect  how 
often  Helen  was  with  Mark  Hilton,  not  openly,  as  with 
Craig,  but  secretly  and  alone.  Alice  watched  quietly 
the  march  of  events,  satisfied  with  the  few  crumbs  which 
came  to  her  in  the  form  of  pleasant  words  and  smiles 
from  Craig,  when  he  was  not  too  much  absorbed  with 
Helen. 

Jeff  was  her  devoted  slave,  and  had  been  since  he 
heard  her  words  of  commendation  when  she  defended 
him  against  her  aunt.  She  had  been  with  him  two  or 
three  times  on  the  river  after  lilies,  with  which  he  kept 
her  supplied  and  which  he  once  told  her  she  was  like, 
had  been  with  him  to  see  the  mud-turtle's  bed  and 


144  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

the  hornet's  nest,  and  said  to  him  many  things  which 
would  sometime  come  back  to  him  in  a  paroxysm  of  re 
morse  and  regret  for  those  days,  the  happiest  he  would 
ever  know.  He  no  longer  tried  to  pick  pockets  for  fun, 
and  he  did  not  object  to  Sunday  school  and  the  verses 
in  the  Bible  which  Mrs.  Taylor  required  him  to  learn. 
He  was,  however,  quite  awake  to  the  state  of  affairs  be 
tween  Mark  and  Craig  and  Helen,  and  knew  pretty  ac 
curately  how  much  time  the  young  lady  spent  with  each 
of  her  lovers  and  where,  and  drew  his  own  conclusions. 

"A  girl  can  flirt  with  two  fellers  at  a  time,  but  she  can't 
marry  them  both,  and  I'll  bet  my  new  jack-knife  Mark 
will  come  out  ahead,"  he  said  to  himself,  but  did  not 
communicate  his  opinion  to  Alice,  lest  she  should  re 
prove  him  for  eaves-dropping,  and  he  wished  to  stand 
well  in  her  estimation  in  every  respect. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

BROWNING. 

THE  north  piazza,  which  was  the  widest  and  pleasant- 
est  around  the  house  because  the  coolest  and  most  quiet, 
had  assumed  quite  a  cozy,  festive  air  since  the  Tracys 
came.  Several  bits  of  carpet  and  rugs  had  been  spread 
upon  the  floor, — three  or  four  easy  chairs  had  been 
brought  out,  with  a  settee  over  which  a  bright  afghan 
was  thrown.  A  hammock  had  been  put  up  in  which 
Helen  posed,  with  Mark  and  Craig  standing  by  and 
swinging  her  gently  to  and  fro.  Alice  said  the  hammock 
gave  her  a  headache  and  left  it  to  Helen,  who  monopo 
lized  it  entirely,  either  sitting  or  reclining,  and  doing 


BROWNING.  145 

both  naturally  and  gracefully,  as  a  little  child  might  do. 
A  small  round  table  had  been  brought  out  and  covered 
with  a  dainty  tea  set,  which  Mrs.  Tracy  had  found  m 
Worcester,  and  here  Helen  dispensed  tea  nearly  every 
afternoon,  and  sometimes  in  the  evening  when  the  moon 
was  shining  upon  them,  softening  the  beauty  of  her  face 
and  making  it  more  like  a  Madonna  than  a  young  girl 
whose  brain  was  sometimes  aching  with  the  feeling  of 
unrest  gradually  stealing  over  her  and  bringing  into 
her  eyes  a  troubled  look  never  seen  there  before. 

Every  few  mornings  she  found  a  fresh  bouquet  of 
roses  upon  her  tea  table.  Taking  it  for  granted  they 
were  for  herself,  she  went  into  ecstasies  over  them  and 
wondered  who  sent  them. 

"Not  I.  I  didn't  think  of  it.  I  wish  I  had,"  Craig 
said  in  his  honest  way,  as  she  buried  her  face  in  the 
roses  and  then  looked  inquiringly  at  him. 

If  Craig  did  not  send  them,  Mark  did,  and  whether 
she  thanked  him  in  the  office  or  on  the  stairs  no  one 
knew.  He  was  satisfied  and  happy,  and  would  have  or 
dered  all  the  roses  in  the  North  Ridgefield  greenhouse 
if  he  had  thought  she  wanted  them.  Craig  still  kept  his 
small  table  for  his  lemonade,  of  which  he  was  very  fond, 
and  for  his  papers  and  books.  These  last  had  been  sadly 
neglected.  Browning  had  scarcely  been  touched,  but 
was  not  forgotten.  He  meant  to  have  the  readings  yet, 
and  spoke  of  them  several  times  to  the  young  ladies. 
Alice  was  always  ready,  although  frankly  admitting  that 
she  knew  nothing  and  must  be  a  mere  listener.  Helen 
was  never  ready.  Nothing  would  give  her  greater  pleas 
tire  than  to  spend  an  hour  each  day  with  dear  old  Brown 
ing,  she  said,  but  there  was  always  some  reason  why  she 
couldn't  give  herself  that  pleasure.  At  last,  as  the  sultry 
August  days  came  on  and  it  was  too  hot  and  dusty  to 


146  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

drive  until  after  supper,  Craig,  who  was  not  one  to  give 
up  an  idea  readily,  decided  to  bring  his  club  together, 
and  on  a  certain  morning  gave  notice  that  he  should 
expect  its  members  on  the  north  piazza,  at  4  o'clock 
sharp,  to  hear  him  read  Sordello.  He  was  sure  of  Helen 
and  Alice,  and  probably  his  mother  and  Mrs.  Tracy,  with 
Mark,  when  he  could  find  time,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor, 
if  they  chose  to  come. 

"Come?  In  course  we  shall,"  Uncle  Zacheus  said. 
"I'm  rather  old  to  begin  to  improve  my  mind  and 
shan't  catch  on  worth  a  cent ;  but  Dot  will.  She's  quick 
to  see  a  p'int.  Who  was  Browning,  anyway?  I  used  to 
know  a  family  down  east  by  that  name.  Any  relation?" 

Craig  explained  as  well  as  he  could  and  smiled  as  he 
thought  of  Uncle  Zach  trying  to  master,  or  even  listen 
to  the  intricacies  of  Sordello.  But  he  was  glad  for  an 
audience,  if  half  were  Uncle  Zach's,  and  was  very  much 
engaged  and  excited  for  him.  The  chairs  were  arranged 
in  a  semi-circle,  a  little  away  from  the  hammock,  which 
would  not,  of  course,  be  used.  Helen,  the  only  one  who 
was  really  interested,  or  knew  much  of  the  poet,  would 
sit  at  his  right.  He  had  arranged  for  that  by  having  a 
chair  placed  close  to  the  stand  on  which  were  the  roses 
which  had  come  fresh  that  afternoon  for  the  occasion. 
There  were  bowls  of  lilies  on  the  wide  railing  of  the 
piazza  and  at  5  o'clock  Celine  was  to  bring  out  biscuits 
and  wafers  and  preserved  ginger  to  be  served  with  choc 
olate  which  Helen  was  to  pour.  Nothing  could  be  pleas- 
anter,  he  thought,  as  at  a  quarter  before  four  he  took  his 
accustomed  seat.  Mrs.  Tracy  was  the  first  to  join  him. 
She  knew  nothing  of  Browning  and  cared  less,  but  was 
glad  of  any  break  in  her  monotonous  life  which  did  not 
require  exertion.  She  did  not  like  to  drive,  or  sail,  or 
walk ;  she  had  visited  her  grandfather's  monument,  and 


BROWNING.  147 

the  house  where  he  used  to  live,  and  had  been  once  to 
church.  For  the  rest  of  the  time  she  had  stayed  at  home, 
doing  nothing  except  to  watch  the  progress  of  affairs 
between  Helen  and  Craig.  She  would  like  to  have  her 
daughter  settled,  and  nothing  could  suit  her  better  than 
to  see  her  married  to  Craig  Mason.  That  morning  she 
had  broached  the  subject  to  Helen,  who  had  replied, 
"If  Mr.  Mason  proposes  to  me  I  shall  not  refuse  him." 

This  had  put  Mrs.  Tracy  into  so  good  a  humor  that  she 
had  forgotten  to  sec  if  her  diamonds  were  safe.  Twice 
a  day, — morning  and  night, — since  her  failure  to  open 
the  safe  herself,  she  had  asked  Mark  to  do  it  for  her. 
This  morning  she  had  not  made  him  her  usual  visit,  and 
when,  as  she  was  going  to  the  north  piazza,  he  called  to 
her  and  asked  if  she  had  forgotten  her  diamonds,  she 
waved  her  hand  patronizingly,  and  said,  "I  had ;  but  no 
matter,  I  can  wait  till  night." 

She  took  the  seat  indicated  by  Craig,  and  was  soon 
joined  by  Mrs.  Mason  and  Alice.  Then  Uncle  Zach 
came,  pleased  as  a  child  "to  be  invited  to  a  literature." 

"Dot  will  be  here  in  a  minute,"  he  said,  as  he  seated 
himself  in  a  chair  so  high  that  only  his  toes  could 
touch  the  floor.  "She's  seein'  to  some  sass  on  the  stove." 

Dotty  soon  came,  heated  and  perspiring,  and  more 
interested  in  the  jelly  she  had  left  in  Sarah's  care  than  in 
Browning,  of  whom  she  had  never  heard  till  invited  to 
attend  the  reading.  Even  then  she  would  have  declined 
if  it  had  not  been  for  her  husband,  who  told  her  they 
didn't  or'to  lose  a  chance  to  improve  their  minds. 

If  she  thought  he  had  not  much  mind  to  improve 
she  did  not  say  so,  and  in  her  best  gingham  gown  and 
white  apron,  she  took  the  only  chair  left  except  the  one 
near  Craig,  reserved  for  Helen.  That  young  lady  had 
been  having  a  rather  unenviable  time  with  Browning, 


148  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

It  was  now  more  than  three  weeks  since  that  first  day 
at  the  Prospect  House  when  Alice  had  gone  out  to  find 
the  library,  if  there  was  one.  She  had  found  it  without 
difficulty  and  inquired  for  Browning's  Poems. 

"Which  volume?"  the  librarian  said. 

Alice  didn't  know,  and  confessed  her  ignorance. 

"What  particular  poem  do  you  wish  to  read  ?"  was  the 
next  question. 

"Sordello,"  Alice  replied,  and  the  librarian  brightened 
at  once. 

"Oh,  yes;  Vol.  I.  We  have  that,  and  it  is  nearly  al 
ways  in,  so  few  care  for  it;  they  find  it  tough  reading, 
they  say.  You  like  it,  I  suppose?"  and  the  librarian 
looked  over  his  spectacles  at  Alice,  who  said,  "I  don't 
know;  I  never  read  it." 

"Wouldn't  try,  then;  hard  work  and  little  pay,"  and 
the  old  man  shook  his  head;  then  added,  as  he  handed 
the  book  to  her,  "if  you  must  read  it,  better  take  the  en 
cyclopedia,  which  will  help  you  amazingly.  Here  'tis." 

Alice  took  the  book  and  turning  the  leaves  found  the 
story  which  she  knew  would  be  a  help  and  which  she 
might  herself  like  to  read. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said.  "I  will  take  both ;  they  don't 
look  as  if  they  were  often  used." 

"Very  seldom.  Not  on  an  average  once  a  year.  There's 
a  chap  at  the  hotel  been  in  twice  and  looked  at  the  en 
cyclopedia.  He's  pretty  well  up  in  Browning,  I  guess. 
You  are  from  the  hotel,  too,  aren't  you?" 

Alice  bowed  in  the  affirmative  and  left  the  library.  For 
some  days  the  books  reposed  -quietly  on  Helen's  dress 
ing  table.  So  many  things  came  up  to  occupy  Craig's 
mind  that  it  took  but  little  tact  to  put  the  club  out  of  it 
for  a  while.  The  moment,  however,  that  Helen  saw 
signs  of  its  revival  she  attacked  Sordello  in  earnest,  tak- 


BROWNING.  149 

ing  the  poem  first  and  reading  five  or  six  pages  very 
carefully,  over  and  over  again,  first  to  herself  and  then 
to  Alice,  who  consented  to  listen  unwillingly,  for  she 
knew  that  Jeff  was  waiting  to  take  her  to  the  hornet's 
nest  and  the  turtles,  and  twice  his  shrill  whistle  came  in 
at  the  window  telling  her  he  was  ready.  For  a  time  she 
sat  very  quiet,  for  Helen  was  a  fine  reader,  but  when  she 
reached  the  "Progress  of  a  Poet's  Soul,"  and  asked  what 
some  of  the  passages  meant,  Alice  sprang  up  exclaiming, 
"I  don't  know  any  more  than  the  dead,  and  I  doubt  if 
anybody  does.  I've  promised  Jeff  to  go  with  him  to  the 
woods  and  pond  to  see  a  turtle  bed  and  hornet's  nest. 
Good  bye,  and  good  luck  to  you." 

She  was  gone  and  Helen  was  alone  with  Sordello. 

"No  more  soul  than  to  prefer  mud  turtles  and  hornets 
to  Browning.  I  supposed  she  had  a  higher  grade  of 
mind,"  Helen  said,  with  a  sigh  of  self-satisfaction,  as  she 
thought  of  her  cousin  tramping  through  the  fields  to  the 
woods  in  company  with  Jeff,  while  she,  with  her  higher 
grade  of  mind,  was  wrestling  with  Browning. 

She  didn't  find  him  quite  as  entertaining  or  easy  to  be 
understood  as  she  had  at  first.  It  was  not  much  like 
Tennyson's  "May  Queen,"  or  Tennyson's  anything,  she 
thought,  and  at  last  threw  the  book  down  in  disgust,  half 
tempted  to  go  after  Alice  and  the  hornets,  especially  as 
she  saw  Mark  walking  down  the  lane  in  that  direction. 
Taking  up  the  encyclopedia  she  turned  to  the  story  of 
Sordello,  which  pleased  her  better.  Here  was  some 
thing  she  could  understand,  and  she  read  it  over  and 
made  copious  notes  from  it  for  future  reference,  and  felt 
herself  quite  mistress  of  the  narrative  in  all  its  different 
phases.  She  could  not  explain  why,  but  Mark  Hilton 
always  stood  for  Sordello,  while  she  was  Palma,  and 
with  this  fancy  she  finished  the  story.  To  wade  through 


150  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

the  poem  was  a  different  matter.  Then  a  happy  thought 
occurred  to  her.  She  could  commit  parts  of  it,  and,  if 
necessary,  fire  them  off  at  Craig,  who  would  be  impressed 
with  her  superior  knowledge.  Just  what  to  commit  she 
didn't  know.  So  she  took  bits  here  and  there  at  random, 
1-earned  them  in  a  short  time,  with  no  conception  of  their 
meaning,  and  was  ready  for  the  class. 

Days  and  weeks  passed.  The  class  was  not  called  and 
she  forgot  a  good  deal  she  had  stored  up,  and  when  Craig 
unexpectedly  announced  the  meeting  for  that  afternoon 
she  was  thrown  into  a  state  of  great  consternation  and 
hardly  knew  whether  Sordello  had  been  a  troubadour 
or  a  hotel  clerk, — whether  be  belonged  to  a  noble  family, 
or  was  'Tina's  great-grandson, — and  whether  he  was  still 
in  Purgatory,  where  Dante  saw  him,  or  at  the  Prospect 
House,  receiving  orders  from  Mrs.  Taylor.  Her  Brown 
ing  knowledge  was  a  good  deal  of  a  jumble,  which  she 
must  disentangle.  She  had  made  too  many  admissions 
of  her  liking  for  him  to  fail  when  the  test  came,  and  all 
the  morning  which  was  one  of  the  hottest  and  sultriest 
of  the  season,  she  was  shut  in  her  room,  going  over  the 
story  again  and  re-committing  the  passages  which  had 
escaped  her  memory.  Sordello  and  Mark  Hilton  were 
pretty  equally  mixed  in  her  mind,  which  for  some  reason 
she  found  more  difficult  to  concentrate  on  the  subject 
than  she  did  before,  and  as  she  spent  the  morning  so  she 
spent  the  time  after  dinner  alone  in  her  room,  letting  no 
one  in  and  saying  she  had  a  headache  and  was  resting. 
She  did  look  a  little  heavy-eyed  when  she  was  at  last 
ready  to  join  the  group  on  the  piazza.  Tired  as  she  was 
she  had  taken  a  great  deal  of  pains  with  her  toilet,  dress 
ing  more  for  Mark  than  for  Craig,  who,  she  had  found, 
was  less  of  a  connoisseur  in  the  matter  of  women's 
attire  than  Mark.  She  would  have  liked  to  have  worn 


BROWNING.  1 5 1 

white  that  hot  day,  but  Mark  did  not  like  white  gowns 
and  bine  ribbons,  because  'Tina  was  said  to  figure  in 
these  when  she  visited  the  haunted  house.  So  she  chose 
a  soft  grey  chally  with  elaborate  trimmings  of  pink  and 
white  chiffon.  Two  or  three  of  Mark's  roses  were  her 
only  ornaments  except  her  costly  rings.  With  her 
smelling  salts  to  keep  up  the  appearance  of  headache,  and 
a  fan  which  matched  her  dress,  she  went  languidly 
toward  the  group  on  the  piazza.,  all  seated  except  Mark, 
who  was  standing  at  a  little  distance  with  a  quizzical  ex 
pression  on  his  face.  He  was  something  of  a  lover  of 
Browning  and  had  read  Sordello  two  or  three  times. 
Since  the  club  had  been  talked  of  he  had  thought  to 
read  it  again  and  had  inquired  for  the  book  at  the  library. 
He  was  told  one  of  the  young  ladies  at  the  Prospect 
House  had  had  it  for  some  time,  and  he  readily  guessed 
that  Helen  was  "loading  up,"  as  he  expressed  it.  He 
did  not  believe  she  cared  a  straw  for  Sordello,  or  any 
body  like  him,  and  was  anxious  to  see  how  she  would 
acquit  herself. 

"We  are  waiting  for  you,"  Craig  said,  getting  up  and 
putting  his  hand  on  the  chair  reserved  for  her.  "You 
are  to  sit  here  near  me,  as  you  are  the  one  who  will  be 
most  in  sympathy  with  the  reading.  The  others  do  not 
like  Browning." 

"What  a  pity,  and  how  much  they  lose."  Helen  replied, 
"but  if  you'll  excuse  me  I'd  rather  sit  in  the  hammock. 
My  head  still  aches  a  little." 

She  had  no  idea  of  being  in  close  proximity  to  Craig, 
who  might  ply  her  with  troublesome  questions.  She 
preferred  the  safety  of  the  hammock,  and,  with  the  help 
of  Mark,  who  at  once  came  forward,  put  herself  into  it, 
half  sitting,  half  reclining  on  the  cushions,  with  her  face 
away  from  all  the  party  except  Mark,  who  stood  just 


152  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

where  he  could  see  her.  No  one  would  ever  have  sus 
pected  there  was  anything  of  the  schoolmaster  about 
Craig,  but  he  assumed  that  role  to  some  extent,  and  be 
fore  commencing  to  read,  he  said,  "I  think  we  shall  un 
derstand  the  poem  better  if  we  know  something  of  the 
subject,  Sordello.  Who  was  he?  Miss  Alice  will  per 
haps  tell  us?" 

"Oh,  don't  ask  me !  Pass  on  to  Helen.  She  is  posted," 
Alice  said,  while  Helen  raised  herself  on  her  elbow, — 
moved  her  fan  back  and  forth  slowly,  and  replied,  hes 
itatingly,  as  if  cudgelling  her  memory  for  something  she 
had  once  known  and  which  had  become  a  little  indis 
tinct. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  can  talk  very  clearly  about  him, 
there  were  so  many  fictitious  accounts  of  him.  I  believe, 
though,  he  was  a  troubadour,  who  was  born  in  the  twelfth 
or  thirteenth  century  at  Goito,  near  Mantua.  Am  I 
right?" 

She  was  looking  at  Craig,  who  nodded  affirmatively, 
and  smiled  upon  her  as  she  went  on  still  more  slowly 

"Wasn't  he  at  first  in  the  family  of  some  count,  who 
was  chief  of  the  Guelph  faction,  and  didn't  he  afterward 
enter  the  service  of  Berenger,  of  the  house  of  Barce 
lona?" 

Again  Craig  bowed  and  Helen  continued :  "He  wrote 
songs  and  poems  and  was  distinguished  for  his  pleasing 
address  and  grace  of  manner,  although  said  to  be  small 
in  stature.  The  stories  told  of  him  are  so  filled  with  an 
achronisms,  romances  and  fictions  that  it  is  difficult  to 
decide  which  are  true  and  which  are  false." 

"That  is  all  encyclopedia.  Of  herself  Helen  never 
mastered  such  a  word  as  anachronism,"  Alice  thought, 
while  Mark  had  a  similar  idea. 

Craig  had  no  suspicion,  and  was  delighted  to  find  one 


BROWNING.  153 

person  in  so  perfect  accord  with  himself.  He  motioned 
her  to  go  on,  and,  pleased  with  the  attention  she  was 
receiving,  she  went  on  rapidly  now  and  a  little  incohe 
rently,  as  her  memory  was  beginning  to  fail  her. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  "that  some  writers  have  aceused 
him  of  eloping  with  another  man's  wife.  This  is  doubt 
ful.  There  is  a  Palma,  who  figures  very  conspicuously 
with  him.  I  can't  tell  you  all  about  it,  or  just  how  he 
died.  I  know  Dante  met  him  in  Purgatory  with  those 
who  had  died  without  a  chance  to  repent." 

"Served  him  right,  too,  for  running  off  with  another 
man's  wife.  Has  he  ever  got  out  of  Purgatory?"  Uncle 
Zach  exclaimed,  and  Helen  blessed  him  for  creating  a 
diversion  at  a  point  from  which  she  dared  not  venture 
much  farther. 

Everybody  laughed  except  Mrs.  Taylor,  who  had 
caught  a  whiff  of  burning  jelly  and  arose  hastily,  saying 
she  must  be  excused. 

"Come  back,  Dot,  as  quick  as  you  can;  it  won't  do  to 
lose  none  of  this  feast  of  -  — ,  what  do  you  call  it?"  Un 
cle  Zach  said  to  her,  putting  his  hand  on  her  chair  as  if 
to  keep  it  from  some  imaginary  claimant. 

Dot  did  not  answer,  nor  dkl  she  come  back. 

"I  think  I've  done  my  part,"  Helen  said,  but  as  Craig 
urged  her  to  go  on  she  continued,  with  an  air  of  superior 
wisdom,  "As  to  the  much-abused  poem,  it  was  written,  I 
suppose,  to  show  the  times  in  which  Sordello  lived,  and  is 
in  some  sense  the  history  of  the  development  of  a  great 
soul.  It  is  the  most  obscure  of  all  Mr.  Browning's  po 
ems,  and  is  like  a  beautiful  palace  without  a  staircase; 
so  if  one  would  reach  the  rooms  on  the  second  floor,  he 
must  climb." 

"Bravo!  Miss  Tracy.     That  is  a  most  original  idea, 


154  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

and  you  have  described  it  exactly;"  Craig  cried,  enthu 
siastically. 

He  evidently  had  not  studied  the  encyclopedia  as  she 
had,  and  was  giving  Helen  credit  for  an  originality  of 
thought  she  did  not  possess.  The  absence  of  a  staircase 
had  struck  her  forcibly,  and  she  remembered  and  re 
peated  it,  and,  flushed  with  success,  ventured  out  into 
waters  which  proved  too  deep  for  her.  Why  commit 
portions  of  Sordello,  if  she  did  not  use  them?  she 
thought.  "It  is  a  grand  poem,  with  so  many  fine  pas 
sages,"  she  said,  and  began  to  repeat  portions  of  it,  but 
became  confused,  and  strung  together  parts  of  sen 
tences  in  two  or  three  different  books,  making  a  med 
ley  at  which  even  Craig  looked  perplexed,  wondering 
where  such  passages  occurred,  while  Mark  disappeared 
around  the  corner  to  hide  his  merriment. 

It  was  his  face  which  told  Helen  of  her  blunder,  but 
she  was  equal  to  it.  With  a  gay  laugh  she  said,  "I've 
made  a  horrid  mistake,  I  guess,  and  jumbled  things 
some,  but  have  done  the  best  I  could.  Now  I'll  give  place 
to  the  master." 

She  made  a  graceful  gesture  with  her  hands  toward 
Craig,  and  then  lay  down  among  her  cushions  and  pre 
pared  to  listen.  Craig  was  a  fine  reader  and  interested 
in  his  subject,  but  the  air  was  hot  and  sultry  and  none  of 
his  audience  very  appreciative  except  Helen.  He  was 
sure  of  her ;  he  was  reading  to  her,  and  occasionally  cast 
ing  a  look  at  the  hammock  and  the  white  hand  which  lay 
on  her  grey  dress,  and  the  perfect  contour  of  the  side  of 
her  face  he  could  see,  with  the  rich  coloring  on  her  cheek 
and  the  soft  curl  of  hair  around  her  delicate  ear.  He  did 
not  mind  if  Mrs.  Tracy  did  nod  occasionally  and  his 
mother  yawn  and  Alice  cast  glances  at  the  village  clock 
which  could  be  seen  up  the  street,  while  Uncle  Zae_h  was 


BROWNING.  155 

placidly  sleeping  with  his  head  thrown  back  and  his 
mouth  wide  open.  He  had  his  Plato  and  was  satisfied. 
As  yet  he  had  asked  no  one  for  their  ideas  of  the  meaning 
of  anything  he  had  read.  He  had  merely  given  his  own 
and  that  of  the  most  approved  critics. 

At  last  he  came  to  a  sentence  rather  obsure  to  himself. 
He  asked  for  an  opinion,  looking  first  at  Mrs.  Tracy, 
whose  eyes  were  closed, — then  at  his  mother  who  shook 
her  head, — then  at  Alice,  who  was  convulsed  with  laugh 
ter,  although  what  there  was  to  laugh  about  he  could  not 
guess. 

"Miss  Tracy  will  have  to  help  me  out,"  he  said,  turning 
to  the  hammock,  and  dropping  his  silver  paper  cutter  at 
the  same  time  so  that  he  only  caught  a  faint  sound  of  what 
he  had  not  observed  before,  or  which  his  voice  had 
drowned. 

"What  did  you  say,  please?  I  didn't  quite  catch  it,"  he 
asked,  bending  towards  the  hammock  from  which  the 
sound  came  again  and  very  decided  this  time;  not  an 
explanation  of  Sordello,  but  an  unmistakable  snore ! 

Helen  was  fast  asleep.  Mark,  who  had  returned  to  his 
post  and  had  been  watching  her  for  a  few  moments,  gave 
a  loud  laugh,  in  which  Craig,  after  a  moment's  discom 
fiture,  joined. 

"I  think  it  time  to  stop,"  he  said,  'fas  I  have  read  part 
of  my  audience  to  sleep." 

Helen  was  awake  by  this  time,  greatly  distressed  and 
a  little  ashamed  as  she  guessed  why  they  were  all  laugh 
ing. 

"I  am  so  sorry  and  mortified,"  she  said,  getting  out  of 
the  hammock  and  stretching  up  her  white  arms  like  one 
rousing  from  sleep,  "but  my  head  aches  and  the  day  is 
so  hot  that  I  cannot  help  it.  Did  I, — did  I  really — ?" 

She  looked  at  Alice,  who  answered,  "Yes,  you  did ;  but 


156  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

it  was  a  very  ladylike  snore,  and  not  at  all  like  Mr.  Tay 
lor's  ;  he  has  been  off  for  some  time." 

He  was  awake  now,  and  rubbing  his  eyes,  looked  round 
bewildered,  "What's  that?  What's  that?"  he  said.  "Is 
the  meetin'  over  ?  I  must  have  fell  off  a  minit.  Great  chap, 
that  Sour  fellow ;  mighty  queer  name !  Where'd  you  say 
he  was  ?  In  Purgatory  ?  Let  him  stay  there !  Honest, 
though,"  he  continued,  as  his  truthfulness  came  to  the 
rescue,  "I  couldn't  get  head  nor  tail  to  it,  if  there  was  any. 
I  s'pose  though  to  you  who  see  through  it  'twas  a  feast  of 
— ,  what  do  you  call  it  ?  Hello,  there  comes  the  chocklet.  I 
guess  we  are  all  ready  for  that  kind  of  feast,"  he  ex 
claimed,  as  Sarah  appeared  with  the  chocolate  mug  and 
the  basket  of  biscuits  and  wafers. 

Helen  was  certainly  ready  for  it,  and  took  her  seat  at 
the  table,  and  poured  the  chocolate,  which  Craig  handed 
round,  while  Sarah  passed  the  wafers  and  biscuits.  It  was 
a  very  merry  party  which  gathered  near  the  table  and 
Helen  was  the  merriest  of  all,  and  was  so  graceful  and 
fascinating  that  Craig  would  have  forgiven  a  much  graver 
offence  than  falling  asleep  while  he  was  reading.  Having 
no  sisters,  and  a  mother  who  was  almost  painfully  matter 
of  fact  and  frank,  he  had  no  knowledge  of  girls  and  their 
ways,  and  could  not  understand  that  nothing  about  Helen 
was  genuine  except  her  beauty ;  everything  else  was  stud 
ied  for  effect, — from  the  intonation  of  her  voice  to  the 
droop  of  her  long  eyelashes  and  the  tears  she  could  sum 
mon  when  she  wished  to  be  particularly  pathetic  and  in 
teresting.  Mark  knew  her  much  better  than  Craig,  but 
her  deceptions,  which  would  have  filled  Craig  with  disgust 
had  he  known  of  them,  did  not  touch  his  moral  sense  of 
what  was  right  and  wrong.  He  did  not  look  beyond  the 
beauty  of  her  person,  which  he  coveted  and  meant  to  pos 
sess.  He  knew  she  did  not  care  for  Browning,  or  books 


WHAT   TIME   TOLD.  157 

of  any  kind,  and  was  not  at  all  surprised  at  her  falling 
asleep.  The  flippancy  with  which  she  repeated  Sordello 
was  easily  accounted  for.  He  knew  she  had  the  encyclo 
paedia,  and  Jeff,  who  was  everywhere  and  saw  and  heard 
everything,  had  heard  her  reciting  passages  from  Sordello, 
and  when  he  was  under  the  window  waiting  for  Alice 
to  go  with  him  1o  the  woods  he  had  caught  snatches  of 
the  conversation  and  had  heard  Helen  say  "I  hate  it  all, 
but  must  keep  up  my  reputation  as  a  Browningite." 

This  he  had  reported  to  Mark,  and  had  asked,  "Is  she 
going  to  speak  a  piece,  and  can  I  hear  her?"  Jeff  was 
obedient  to  every  known  wish  of  Mark,,  whose  will 
dominated  him,  and,  actuated  by  a  desire  that  the  latter 
should  be  a  winner  in  the  race  he  saw  was  running  be 
tween  the  two  men,  he  frequently  gave  information  to  his 
master  as  to  where  Helen  could  be  found  alone,  and  some 
times  stood  guard  at  a  little  distance,  ready  to  whistle, 
or  turn  a  summersault  when  any  one  was  approaching. 

"Both  of  'em  after  her,"  he  thought,  "and  it's  a  toss  up 
which  will  win.  Time  will  tell.  I  can't." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

WHAT    TIME    TOLD. 

FOUR  weeks  more  passed  much  as  the  preceding  ones 
had  done,  and  it  was  the  middle  of  September  when  as  a 
rule  city  people  return  to  their  homes,  and  the  summer 
hotels  are  closed.  Mrs.  Mason  and  Mrs.  Tracy  were  anx 
ious  to  leave  but  as  neither  Helen  nor  Craig  were  willing 
to  go,  they  felt  obliged  to  remain,  one  to  watch  her  son 
tind  prevent  him  from  committing  himself  to  what  she 


158  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

knew  he  would  regret,  and  the  other  to  bring  about,  if 
possible,  what  Mrs.  Mason  so  much  dreaded.  In  the 
second  week  in  September  Alice  went  back  to  her  moun 
tain  home  and  the  red  schoolhouse  which  one  of  her 
scholars  wrote  her  had  been  "mopped  real  clean  and  had 
a  new  blackboard  and  a  new  water  pail  and  dipper."  There 
was  a  letter  also  from  Aunt  Mary,  telling  of  a  room  re 
furnished  with  fresh  paper  and  paint  and  a  single  white 
iron  bedstead,  with  muslin  hangings;  a  pretty  bureau, 
with  a  long  glass  and  a  silver  backed  brush  and  hand- 
mirror, — these  last  the  gift  of  the  school  children,  who 
had  picked  berries  on  the  mountains  and  sold  lilies  from 
the  pond  to  buy  them  for  their  teacher,  whose  return  they 
were  anticipating  with  so  much  pleasure. 

Alice  cried  over  this  letter  so  full  of  love  and  thought- 
fulness  and  wondered  why  she  should  shrink  from  a 
return  to  the  farmhouse  and  the  homely  duties  awaiting 
her  there.  With  the  sound  of  Craig  Mason's  voice  saying 
to  her,  "I  hope  you  have  no  bad  news,"  she  knew  why  the 
thought  of  leaving  Ridgefield  gave  her  pain,  and  scolded 
herself  for  it.  Craig  could  never  again  form  any  part  of 
her  life  and  she  resolutely  set  herself  to  work  to  put  from 
her  all  thought  of  him  and  made  her  preparations  for 
leaving  quickly  and  quietly,  saying  to  every  one  that  she 
had  had  a  delightful  summer  and  should  not  soon  forget 
it.  Quite  a  crowd  accompanied  her  to  the  station,  Craig 
and  his  mother,  Mrs.  Tracy  and  Helen,  Mark  and  Uncle 
Zach,  and  Jeff,  who  was  inconsolable. 

"I'll  go  to  the  bad.  I  know  I  shall.  I  feel  as  if  I  wanted, 
to  pick  forty  pockets,"  he  said  to  Alice,  as  he  bade  her 
good-bye,  and  then  went  into  the  meadows  behind  some 
alders  and  cried. 

Helen  was  very  sorry  to  part  with  Alice.  "I  have  lost 
my  ballast,  and,  like  Jeff,  shall  go  to  destruction  sure," 


WHAT   TIME   TOLD.  159 

she  said,  and  for  days  she  seemed  so  sad  and  depressed 
that  Craig  tried  every  effort  to  comfort  her,  taking  her 
for  a  long  drive  around  the  chain  of  ponds  and  talking  to 
her  of  what  he  thought  would  interest  her  most.  There 
had  been  no  Browning  readings  after  that  first  attempt. 
"As  no  one  cares  for  them  except  ourselves,  we  may  as 
well  give  them  up,  but  whenever  you  feel  like  it  I  shall 
be  glad  to  read  for  you,"  he  had  said  to  her,  and  Helen, 
while  lamenting  the  non-appreciation  of  the  others,  had 
acquiesced  in  his  decision,  and  on  two  or  three  different 
occasions,  after  Alice  left,  she  sat  on  a  low  ottoman  very 
close  to  him  and  listened  patiently  for  half  an  hour  while 
he  read  to  her,  once  from  Sordello,  once  from  poems 
easier  to  be  understood,  and  last  from  Pauline,  whose 
opening  stanza  thrilled  them  both  with  as  much  of  real 
love  as  either  could  ever  feel  for  the  other.  In  a  voice, 
full  of  feeling,  Craig  read : 

"Pauline,  mine  own,  bend  o'er  me, — thy  sweet  eyes, 
And  loosened  hair  and  breathing  lips  and  arms 
Drawing  me  to  thee, — these  build  up  a  screen 
To  shut  me  in  with  thee,  and  from  all  fear;" 

And  again  : 

"Thou  art  so  good, 
So  calm — " 

And  again ;  in  a  lower  voice,  which  was  almost  a  whis 
per : 

"Thou  lovest  me ; 

And  thou  art  to  receive  not  love  but  faith, 

For  which  thou  wilt  be  mine — "  etc. 

He  did  not  ask  her  what  she  thought  was  meant  by 
this  outburst  of  passion.  He  only  looked  at  her  once  as 


l6o  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

she  sat  beside  him,  with  her  hands  working  together  ner 
vously  on  her  lap,  her  "sweet  eyes"  upon  him  with  a  coy 
expression  in  them,  and  her  "breathing  lips"  a  little 
apart  as  she  drank  in  the  words  and  felt  that  something 
more  was  meant  for  her  than  a  repetition  of  an  imaginary 
love-sick  boy's  declaration  of  love  to  his  mistress.  She 
was  very  quiet  all  through  the  reading,  and  when  it  was 
over  left  Craig  without  a  word  except,  "Thanks  for  the 
pleasure  you  have  given  me." 

Had  he  been  making  love  to  her,  she  asked  herself 
many  times  in  her  own  room,  and  would  he  follow  it  up 
with  words  plainer  to  be  understood  than  those  spoken 
to  Pauline.  And  if  he  did,  what  answer  should  she  give. 

"There  is  only  one  I  can  give  him,  and  he  is  too  good 
a  man  for  that,  but  mamma,  position,  society  lie  that 
way.  To  take  the  other  road  would  be  folly,"  she 
thought,  and  for  an  hour  or  more  fought  a  fierce  battle 
with  herself  and  her  inclination. 

For  two  days  she  avoided  both  Craig  and  Mark  as 
much  as  possible,  and  scarcely  spoke  when  she  met 
them.  She  was  missing  Alice,  and  wanted  to  go  home. 

"Before  anything  has  been  accomplished  ?"  her  mother 
said,  "Have  we  spent  the  summer  in  this  dull  place  for 
nothing?  Remember  you  will  soon  be  passce.  People 
now  say  you  are  older  than  you  are,  you  have  been  be 
fore  the  public  so  long.  You  cannot  expect  twenty 
more  offers.  If  you  get  one,  and  it  is  the  right  one,  I 
shall  be  glad.  You  once  told  me  you  would  accept  Mr. 
Mason  is  he  proposed ; — can  you  not  bring  him  to  do  so 
or  have  you  lost  your  skill?" 

This  decided  Helen.  Craig  and  his  mother  were  go 
ing  to  Boston  the  next  morning  on  the  early  train,  his 
mother  to  stay  and  Craig  to  return,  and  when  that  after 
noon  Craig  suggested  a  drive  she  assented  readily. 


WHAT  TIME  TOLD.  161 

"I  shall  not  be  back  for  a  few  days,"  he  said,  "and  by 
that  time  it  may  be  cold  and  rainy.  We  ought  to  improve 
this  fine  weather.  I  have  scarcely  seen  you  for  a  week/* 

It  was  a  glorious  September  clay,  with  that  stillness 
in  the  air  and  that  haze  upon  the  hills  which  early  au 
tumn  brings,  and  Helen  wondered  at  the  feeling  which 
oppressed  her. 

"I  used  to  like  such  days,  but  this  one  makes  me  home 
sick  and  shivery,"  she  said,  as  she  arranged  her  hat  and 
buttoned  her  jacket  and  gloves. 

On  the  terrace  below  she  heard  Mark  giving  some 
orders  to  Jeff  and  for  a  moment  she  held  fast  to  the  dress 
ing  bureau  to  steady  herself.  She  had  not  reached  the 
stage  of  young  ladyhood  which  requires  stimulants  ev 
ery  day,  but  she  knew  the  use  of  them  and  going  to  a 
bottle  labeled  brandy  she  poured  out  more  than  she  had 
ever  taken  before  at  one  time  and  drank  it. 

"That  will  steady  my  nerves ;"  she  thought,  but  her 
step  was  not  as  elastic  as  usual  when  she  went  out  to 
where  Craig  was  waiting  for  her,  with  Mark  standing 
beside  him. 

She  did  not  look  at  the  latter  as  she  took  her  seat  in 
the  buggy.  She  had  made  up  her  mind  and  there  was 
no  going  back.  She  had  often  boasted  that  she  could 
make  a  man  propose  to  her  if  she  wished  him  to  do  so. 
In  this  instance  she  did  wish  it  and  every  art  of  which 
she  was  mistress  was  brought  to  bear  upon  the  unsus 
pecting  Craig,  who  would  have  been  less  than  a  man  had 
he  been  insensible  to  her  charms.  Either  the  rapid  mo 
tion  or  the  excitement,  or  the  brandy  gave  an  additional 
brilliancy  to  her  complexion,  and  her  eyes  had  never 
been  more  beautiful  than  they  were  when  she  told  Craig 
how  much  she  had  enjoyed  the  summer,  thanks  to  him 
and  his  kindness,  and  said  this  was  probably  their  last 


1 62  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

drive  together,  as  she  and  her  mother  might  be  gone  be 
fore  he  returned,  but  she  should  never  forget  Ridgefield, — 
never.  Perhaps  it  was  the  wind  which  blew  a  little  chilly 
down  the  hill  they  were  descending,  and  perhaps  it  was 
real  grief  which  brought  a  tear  to  her  eyes  as  she  lifted 
them  to  Craig's  face  and  then  dropped  them  quickly,  as 
if  ashamed  of  her  emotion.  Craig  had  fully  made  up  his 
mind  to  ask  her  to  be  his  wife,  but  was  going  to  wait  till 
he  had  decided  upon  words  suited  to  so  delicate  a  sub 
ject.  Perhaps  it  would  be  better  to  write  when  he  was 
in  Boston,  he  thought.  Yes,  on  the  whole  it  would  be 
better,  as  he  could  arrange  and  re-arrange  what  he 
wanted  to  say,  so  as  not  to  shock  her  in  any  way.  But 
all  his  pre-arranged  plans  were  set  aside  by  Helen's 
methods,  and  before  he  knew  what  he  was  doing  he  had 
asked  her  to  be  his  wife  and  she  had  accepted  him,  with 
a  protest  that  she  was  not  worthy  of  him, — that  if  he 
knew  her  as  she  knew  herself  he  would  not  wish  for  her, 
but  if  he  were  prepared  to  take  her  with  all  her  faults,  she 
was  his,  and  would  try  to  make  him  a  good  wife. 

He  did  not  know  that  she  had  any  faults,  except  that 
she  might  be  something  of  a  flirt,  and  this  she  could  not 
help.  He  was  willing  to  take  her  as  she  was  and  felt 
himself  very  happy,  while  she  tried  to  believe  herself 
as  happy  as  a  girl  ought  to  be  when  engaged  to  a  man 
like  Craig  Mason.  She  had  been  wooed  by  many  suitors, 
but  never  in  this  quiet,  tame  fashion,  and  she  laughed  to 
herself  as  she  thought  of  the  contrast.  Some  had  knelt 
at  her  feet  with  passionate  words  of  love,  and  two  hot 
headed,  brainless  ones  had  threatened  suicide  if  she  re 
fused  them,  and  then  had  been  married  within  six 
months.  All  this  was  very  exciting  and  exhilirating  to 
one  of  her  temperament,  and  very  different  from  Craig's 
style.  He  had  not  even  touched  her  hand, — possibly 


WHAT   TIME   TOLD.  163 

because  at  the  moment  her  final  yes  was  spoken  a  baby- 
cart  came  suddenly  through  a  gate  and  both  his  hands 
were  occupied  in  managing  Dido,  whose  one  fault  was 
fear  of  a  baby-cart,  and  who  started  to  run  furiously. 
When  she  had  become  quiet  and  they  were  ascending  a 
hill  he  said  abruptly,  but  laughingly,  "If  rumor  is  cor 
rect,  I  am  not  the  first  who  has  proposed  to  you?" 

There  was  a  world  of  mirth  in  Helen's  eyes,  as  she  re 
plied,  "You  are  the  twenty-first !" 

Craig  gasped,  as  if  the  honor  were  a  questionable  one. 
Helen  saw  it  and  hastened  to  add,  "I  could  not  help  it  if 
a  lot  of  senseless  men  and  boys  chose  to  think  they  were 
in  love  with  me.  I  never  cared  for  one  of  them, — never !" 

She  made  the  last  never  very  emphatic,  and  thus  reas 
sured  the  shadow  lifted  from  Craig's  face,  and  during  the 
remainder  of  the  drive  he  talked  of  their  future  which 
should  be  as  bright  and  happy  as  it  was  in  his  power  to 
make  it.  They  would  have  a  home  of  their  own  in  Bos 
ton,  for  he  believed  in  the  saying  that  no  house  was 
large  enough  for  two  families, — a  sentiment  in  which 
Helen  fully  concurred  when  she  thought  of  his  stately 
mother,  who,  she  felt  sure,  was  not  anxious  to  have  her 
for  a  daughter-in-law.  They  would  go  to  Europe,  if  she 
liked,  when  they  were  married,  and  it  would  please  him 
to  have  the  marriage  take  place  as  soon  as  possible,  say, 
at  Christmas  time. 

"No,  oh,  no!  Not  so  soon  as  that!"  Helen  exclaimed. 
"You  do  not  care  for  society,  and  I  do.  Let  me  have  one 
more  winter  of  it  before  I  settle  down  into  the  domestic 
wife  I  mean  to  be." 

She  was  very  earnest,  and  Craig  consented  to  wait 
until  spring. 

"And,  please,"  she  said,  "don't  let  us  talk  of  the  en- 


164  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

gagement  at  once.  I  mean,  not  to-night,  and  you  going 
away  to-morrow.  Wait  till  you  return." 

"But  suppose  you  are  not  here?  You  said  you  might 
not  be,"  Craig  suggested,  and  Helen  replied,  "We  shall 
be  here.  I  can  persuade  mamma  to  stay,  if  she  still 
thinks  of  going.  I  shall  tell  her,  of  course,  and  shall 
write  to  Alice  to-night.  She  will  be  interested,  and,  oh, 
Mr.  Mason — " 

"Craig,  please,"  he  interrupted  her. 

"Well,  then,  Craig.  I  think  it  such  a  pretty  name," 
Helen  continued.  "If  we  go  to  Europe, — and  I  should 
like  that  so  much, — would  you  mind  having  Alice  go 
with  us?  I  am  always  better  when  she  is  with  me.  Did 
you  ever  notice  what  clear,  honest  eyes  she  has, — eyes 
which  keep  you  from  being  bad  when  they  are  on  you. 
She  is  so  helpful,  too,  and  sees  what  to  do  and  does  it. 
I  should  be  happier  if  Alice  were  with  us." 

It  was  a  novel  thing  for  a  newly-engaged  young  lady 
to  be  asking  her  fiancee  to  take  another  young  lady  with 
them  on  their  bridal  trip  because  it  would  make  her  hap 
pier.  But  Helen  was  in  earnest.  She  was  always  at  her 
best  with  Alice,  and  much  as  she  might  love  Craig  Ma 
son,  if  she  did  love  him,  she  knew  there  was  very  little 
that  was  congenial  between  them,  and  there  had  already 
come  over  her  something  like  homesickness  as  she 
thought  of  months  abroad,  with  only  him  for  company 
and  no  one  to  whom  to  show  herself  as  she  really  was, — • 
to  let  herself  out,  as  she  expressed  it.  Craig  was  in  a 
mood  to  promise  anything.  He  could  be  very  happy 
alone  with  Helen,  but  Alice  would  not  be  in  his  way. 
She  was  restful  and  helpful  and  sunny,  and,  as  Jeff  had 
once  said  of  her  to  him,  "Cool  and  good  to  look  at,  with 
her  blue  eyes  and  lily  complexion."  He  was  quite  willing 
she  should  be  the  third  in  his  party,  for  he  had  an  im- 


WHAT  TIME  TOLD.  165 

pression  that  she  was  a  kind  of  ballast  for  Helen.  That 
she  should  go  with  them  was  settled  by  the  time  they 
reached  the  hotel,  and  Helen's  "Thank  you,  Craig,"  was 
very  genuine  as  she  arose  for  him  to  lift  her  from  the 

buggy. 

Just  for  an  instant  he  held  her  in  his  arms  before  he 
put  her  down.  Her  face  was  very  near  his  and  he  might 
have  kissed  her  if  Jeff,  who  seemed  to  be  omnipresent, 
had  not  rolled  up  in  time  to  prevent  it.  Releasing  her 
he  said,  "You  are  now  mine.  God  bless  you  and  make 
me  worthy  of  you." 

Helen  did  not  answer,  but  went  at  once  to  her  room 
and,  throwing  herself  upon  the  bed,  burst  into  a  parox 
ysm  of  tears.  Glad,  happy  tears  she  tried  to  think  they 
were,  for  had  she  not  secured  what  she  came  to  Ridge- 
field  to  secure  in  case  she  found  it  worth  the  trouble. 
And  he  was  worth  it,  she  told  herself,  over  and  over 
again.  He  was  a  man  of  whom  any  woman  might  be 
proud  and  fond. 

"I  shall  disappoint  him  every  day,"  she  said.  "He  is 
far  better  suited  to  Alice." 

The  mention  of  her  cousin  reminded  her  of  the 
letter  she  was  going  to  write,  and,  after  a  hurried  sup 
per,  during  which  she  said  but  little  to  her  mother,  she 
commenced  it.  On  the  first  line  in  immense  letters  were 
the  words :  "WE  ARE  ENGAGED ;  the  prize  is  mine !" 
Then  she  went  on  to  describe  the  drive  and  the  means 
she  took  to  bring  Craig  to  the  point. 

"You  know  I  am  an  experienced  hand  in  love-making, 
and  its  different  phases,"  she  wrote,  "while  he  is  a  mere 
baby; — actually  stammered  annd  blushed  when  he  asked 
the  important  question,  the  twenty-first  put  to  me.  I 
told  him  that,  and  I  could  see  it  staggered  him  a  little, 
but  he  soon  recovered  and  I  do  believe  he  is  happy, 


1 66  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

while  I  respect  him  because  he  didn't  get  down  on  his 
knees ;  he  couldn't  very  well  in  that  narrow  buggy,  with 
Dido  -running  away  from  a  baby-cart.  That  was  what 
happened,  and  maybe  is  the  reason  that  he  was  so  cold  in 
his  wooing.  Didn't  even  touch  my  hand,  and  it  was  lying 
where  it  would  have  been  very  convenient  for  him  to  take 
if  he  wanted  to.  He  really  acted  as  if  I  were  a  choice 
piece  of  pottery,  not  to  be  meddled  with.  On  the  whole 
it  was  a  very  matter-of-fact  affair,  something  like  this: 
He,  after  two  or  three  coughs,  and  getting  very  red  in 
the  face,  'Will  you  be  my  wife  ?  Behave,  Dido,  what  ails 
you?'  She,  very  much  surprised,  so  much  so  in  fact  that 
without  stopping  to  think,  she  replied,  'Yes,  if  you  wish  it. 
I  think  it  was  the  baby-cart  that  frightened  Dido.' 

"That's  about  as  it  was,  and  we  were  engaged,  and 
went  at  once  to  talking  of  the  future, — or  he  did. 
Wished  to  be  married  by  Christmas.  But  I  said  no.  I 
must  have  one  more  winter  in  dear  old  New  York  before 
settling  down  as  a  model  wife  in  stupid  Boston.  Of 
course  I  didn't  talk  that  way  about  Boston.  But  he  is 
to  wait  until  spring,  when  we  are  going  to  Europe,  and 
you  are  going  with  us !  I  settled  that  at  once.  I  could 
not  stand  a  year's  travel  alone  with  any  man,  with  no 
right  to  look  at  another  or  let  him  look  at  me,  and  no 
body  to  talk  things  over  with.  I  began  to  feel  lone 
some  until  I  thought  of  you,  who  always  do  me 
good.  You  know  I  am  tricky  and  false  and  all  that  is 
mean  that  way.  You  found  out  more  of  it  here  than  you 
knew  before,  and  your  great,  pure,  white  soul  rebelled 
against  it,  but  I  know  you  like  me  and  I  like  you  better 
than  anybody  in  the  world,  except,  of  course,  mother 
and  Craig.  He  wants  me  to  call  him  that,  and —  -  well, 
I'll  not  enumerate  my  likes  and  dislikes.  I  want  you  to 
go  with  us,  and  Craig  wants  you,  and  you  are  going.  So 


WHAT  TIME  TOLD.  167 

make  your  arrangements  to  give  up  that  schoolhouse  in 
the  spring  and  see  the  old  world,  and  help  me  through 
the  British  Museum,  where  I  have  never  spent  more 
than  two  hours,  but  shall  have  to  spend  days  with  Craig, 
who  thinks  me  rather  intellectual.  I  have  arranged  how 
to  manage.  I  shall  have  a  headache  and  be  tired,  and 
wait  while  you  and  Craig  examine  every  coin  and  piece 
of  old  yellow  parchment,  and  all  the  broken-nosed  and 
broken-legged  statuary.  Ugh !  I  shudder  to  thing  of  it, 
and  the  many  more  tiresome  places,  in  which  Craig  will 
revel.  We  shall  stand  by  Mrs.  Browning's  grave  in 
Florence  and  stare  at  the  house  where  she  lived,  and  sail 
past  the  Browning  palace  on  the  Grand  Canal  in  Venice, 
and  I  shall  be  expected  to  go  into  raptures  over  Sor- 
dello  and  that  other  queer  name,  Paracelsus,  about  which 
I  know  nothing  and  care  less. 

"Poor  Craig!  He  is  getting  awfully  cheated.  There 
is  nothing  real  about  me,  except  my  face.  I  am  fairly 
good-looking  and  I  mean  to  make  him  a  good  wife.  He 
is  easily  gulled ;  shy  men  always  are,  or  he  would  see 
through  me.  Mr.  Hilton  does,  I  am  sure.  I  wish  Craig 
had  as  much  fun  and  fire  in  him.  But  comparisons  are 
odious,  and  sometimes  injurious  to  one's  peace  of  mind. 
It  is  something  to  be  Mrs.  Craig  Mason  of  Boston,  with 
a  fine  establishment  on  Commonwealth  Avenue,  and  one 
can't  have  the  world.  Did  I  tell  you  Craig  was  going  to 
Boston  with  his  mother  to-morrow  to  be  gone  some 
days,  and  I  am  wicked  enough  to  feel  relieved.  I  know 
exactly  what  to  say  to  a  man  to  whom  I  am  not  engaged, 
but  what  to  say  to  one  to  whom  I  am  engaged  is  a  differ 
ent  thing.  The  excitement  is  over  and  only  a  dull  sur 
face  of  things  left.  I  shall  have  time  to  think  and  get 
myself  well  in  hand  before  he  comes  back.  He  is  to 
bring  several  engagement  rings  for  me  to  choose  from, 


1 68  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

and  will  look  at  a  house  on  the  Avenue  which  is  for  sale 
and  which  he  thinks  will  suit  me. 

"And  you  are  to  live  with  us !  I  have  settled  that  in 
my  own  mind.  I  cannot  live  alone  with  a  man  and  that 
man  my  husband,  and  know  I  am  roped  in, — done  for, — 
finished ;  no  more  need  of  any  little  harmless  tricks  and 
deceptions,  which  are  my  very  life.  I  believe  I  am  grow 
ing  wicked,  so  I'll  stop.  Burn  this  letter  as  soon  as  you 
read  it.  It  sounds  heartless,  and  as  if  I  didn't  care  for 
Craig,  when  I  do;  but,  oh,  Alice,  I  wish  I  could  turn 
myself  inside  out  in  the  lap  of  some  good  woman  and  tell 
her  all  I  feel.  But  I  can't.  Mother  would  be  horrified 
and  so  would  you,  and  each  for  a  different  reason.  I 
know  you  pray,  and  so  do  I,  in  a  stupid,  mechanical  way, 
but  I  can't  to-night,  nor  ever  again,  perhaps,  but  you, 
who  never  did  a  mean  act  in  your  life,  can  pray  for  me. 
Your  wicked 

"Cousin  Helen." 

Once  Helen  thought  to  tear  this  letter  up,  then  de 
cided  to  send  it;  and  bade  Celine  take  it  down  to  the 
table  in  the  lower  hall  where  letters  designed  for  the  ear 
ly  mail  were  left.  For  a  long  time  that  night  she  tossed 
upon  her  pillow,  unable  to  sleep,  and,  as  a  consequence, 
did  not  waken  until  after  Craig  and  his  mother  had  left 
for  the  8  o'clock  train. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

IN  THE  HAUNTED  HOUSE. 

THE  morning  was  long  and  lonely  to  Helen,  who  won 
dered  what  there  was  for  a  girl  to  do  when  all  was  over 
and  settled.  She  felt  that  she  ought  to  have  been  up  and 


IN  THE   HAUNTED   HOUSE.  169 

spoken  with  Craig  before  he  left.  He  expected  it,  she 
knew,  for  he  had  asked  Celine  if  she  were  awake,  and 
when  told  she  was  still  sleeping,  had  given  the  girl  a  note 
for  her. 

"Darling,"'  it  said,  "I  hoped  I  might  have  seen  you 
this  morning  for  a  moment,  but  as  I  cannot  I  send  you  a 
line  to  tell  you  how  happy  I  am,  and  that  I  shall  count 
the  days  before  I  can  return.  God  bless  you,  and  keep 
you  in  safety.  Craig." 

Helen  had  received  scores  of  love  letters,  but  none 
which  affected  her  like  these  few  words,  which  wrung 
the  hot  tears  from  her  eyes  as  she  read  them. 

"I  am  not  half  good  enough  for  him,  and  when  he 
comes  back  I  shall  tell  him  so,  and  make  him  believe  it. 
I  don't  like  to  be  engaged !"  she  said,  as  she  dressed  her 
self  leisurely,  dispensing  with  the  services  of  Celine,  as 
she  would  rather  be  alone.  , 

Her  mother,  who  had  waited  breakfast  till  she  came 
down,  noticed  her  languor  and  depression,  and  asked  if 
she  were  ill. 

"No,"  Helen  answered,  "I  am  not  ill.  I  am  engaged; 
that's  all.  Mr.  Mason  asked  me  to  be  his  wife  when  we 
were  driving  yesterday,  and  I  told  him  I  would.  You  are 
glad,  I  know." 

Mrs.  Tracy  was  delighted.  What  she  so  much  desired 
had  come  to  pass,  and  she  began  at  once  to  plan  a  grand 
wedding  and  an  elaborate  trousseau. 

"You  know  the  diamonds  are  to  be  yours  when  you 
are  married,"  she  said,  "and  they  must  have  modern  set 
tings.  I'll  ask  Mr.  Hilton  for  them,  and  we  will  look 
them  over  together." 

"But  you'll  not  tell  him  why  you  wish  to  see  them. 
No  one  is  to  know  that  till  Craig  comes  back,"  Helen 
said,  in  some  alarm. 


1^0  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"Of  course  not,"  her  mother  replied,  as  she  left  the 
room  for  the  office. 

Mark,  who  knew  her  errand,  unlocked  the  safe  at  once 
and  bade  her  look  in. 

"I  wish  to  take  them  to  my  room,"  Mrs.  Tracy  said, 
and  with  the  boxes  she  returned  to  her  salon,  where  the 
stones  were  examined  and  admired,  and  the  change  in 
their  setting  discussed.  "I  shall  rather  hate  to  part  with 
them,"  Mrs.  Tracy  said,  "especially  the  pin  and  cross. 
I  do  not  care  so  much  for  the  ear-rings,  they  are  so 
heavy." 

"And  they  are  all  I  do  care  for,  so  you  can  have  the 
pin  and  cross,"  Helen  replied,  as  she  fitted  the  rings  in 
her  ears  and  turned  in  the  sunlight  to  see  them  sparkle. 
"I  think  I  shall  keep  them  just  as  they  are.  I  like  their 
hanging,  instead  of  clinging  close  to  my  ears.  I'll  take 
them  back,"  she  continued,  and  gathering  up  the  boxes 
she  went  to  the  office,  where  she  found  Mark  alone. 
"Aren't  they  beautiful?"  she  said,  turning  her  head  co- 
quettishly  from  side  to  side. 

"Are  you  going  to  wear  them  ?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  no;  I  am  just  showing  you  how  much  they  add 
to  me,"  she  replied. 

Mark  said  they  were  very  fine,  and  began  to  unlock 
the  safe  to  put  them  away,  while  Helen  took  one  of 
them  from  her  ear.  The  clasp  to  the  other  was  bent,  and 
after  trying  in  vain  to  unclasp  it,  she  gave  a  cry  of  pain. 

"Oh-h  !  it's  cutting  my  flesh.    What  shall  I  do  ?" 

"Can  I  help  you  ?"  Mark  said. 

"Perhaps  so,"  and  she 'turned  her  small  pink  ear  to 
him  and  stood  very  still  while  he  loosened  the  refractory 
ring,  his  hands  touching  her  hair  and  cheek  and  making 
her  blush  as  she  thanked  him  and  stepped  back, 


IN   THE   HAUNTED    HOUSE.  1/1 

He  did  not  speak  of  Craig,  but  he  asked  how  she  was 
going  to  pass  the  day  without  her  usual  drive. 

"I  shall  not  miss  it,"  she  said ;  "there  is  such  a  thing 
as  being  driven  too  much,"  and  she  looked  at  him  in  a 
way  which  made  it  hard  for  him  to  keep  back  the  words 
he  was  intending  to  say  before  Craig  Mason  returned. 

But  not  in  the  office.  He  had  the  time  and  place  ar 
ranged,  and  he  said,  "As  you  cannot  drive  suppose  you 
take  a  walk  after  tea.  The  evening  will  be  fine.  There 
is  a  full  moon,  you  know." 

Helen  assented  readily.  Here  was  something  to  think 
of;  something  to  do, — and  all  the  ennui  of  the  morning 
was  gone.  That  afternoon  there  came  a  ,'elegram  from 
Craig,  who  said,  "We  reached  home  safely.  Shall  re 
turn  on  Saturday,  instead  of  Monday,  as  I  first  pro 
posed." 

"How  like  him, — making  love  by  telegraph.  We  shall 
probably  exchange  postals  for  good  mornings  when  we 
are  married,"  Helen  said  with  a  laugh  Craig  would  not 
have  been  pleased  to  hear. 

"He  was  very  thoughtful  to  let  you  know  he  would 
be  back  sooner  than  you  expected  him,  and  shows  his 
kind  heart,"  her  mother  suggested. 

"I  suppose  it  was,"  Helen  replied,  as  she  tore  up  the 
telegram,  and  tossing  the  pieces  into  the  waste  basket 
went  to  dress  herself  for  the  anticipated  walk. 

"Where  are  you  going?"  her  mother  asked,  when 
after  tea  she  saw  her  putting  on  her  hat  and  jacket. 

"Just  to  the  post  office  and  round  the  square,"  Helen 
replied. 

"Alone?  Without  Celine?"  Mrs.  Tracy  said  in  some 
surprise. 

"Yes,  without  Celine,  but  not  alone.     Mr,  Hilton  is. 


172  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

going  with  me,"  Helen  answered,  a  little  defiantly,  in 
anticipation  of  her  mother's  next  remark. 

"Do  you  think  it  proper  to  be  walking  in  the  evening 
with  a  comparative  stranger?  Do  you  think  Mr.  Mason 
would  like  it?" 

"Oh,  bother,  mamma!  Don't  be  so  prudish.  1  am 
to  be  trusted,  and  so  is  Mr.  Hilton.  As  for  Craig  he 
will  not  object.  I  am  not  going  to  tie  myself  up  in  a 
bag  because  I  am  engaged.  By-by,  don't  worry  about 
me." 

She  kissed  her  hand  and  went  out  to  the  piazza, 
where  Mark  was  waiting  for  her,  with  a  light  in  his  eyes 
and  a  ring  in  his  voice  she  had  never  heard  or  seen 
before,  and  which  put  her  on  her  guard.  They  went 
first  to  the  post  office  where  the  evening  mail  was  being 
distributed  and  where  Helen  found  a  letter  from  Craig, 
mailed  in  Boston  at  4  o'clock  and  written  after  the 
telegram  had  been  sent.  Mark,  who  was  standing  apart 
from  her,  only  saw  that  she  had  a  letter  and  crushed  it 
hastily  into  her  pocket.  Leaving  the  office  they  walked 
slowly  around  the  square  until  they  came  to  the  turn  in 
the  road  which  led  past  the  old  ruin.  The  sun  had  been 
down  for  half  an  hour  or  more,  and  the  full  moon  was 
pouring  a  flood  of  light  upon  it,  making  it  look  rather 
ghostly  and  weird,  with  the  woodbine  dropping  from  the 
chimney  and  a  lilac  tree  brushing  against  one  of  the 
broken  windows. 

"Have  you  ever  been  in  my  ancestral  hall?"  Mark 
asked. 

"No,  and  I  don't  believe  I  care  to  visit  it,"  Helen  re 
plied. 

"Oh,  yes,  you  do.  All  the  young  people  in  town  come 
here.  It  is  quite  a  rendezvous  for  lovers,"  Mark  urged. 

"But  we  are  not  lovers,"  Helen  saict,  ^nd  he.  replied, 


IN   THE    HAUNTED    HOUSE.  1/3 

"Very  true,  but  we  can  go  in  for  all  that.  Perhaps  we 
may  see  the  ghost,  if  there  is  one.  She  comes  in  the 
moonlight,  they  say,  as  well  as  in  the  rain.  You  surely 
are  not  afraid  ?" 

Helen  was  not  afraid,  and  only  held  back  from  a 
feeling  that  it  was  not  quite  the  thing  to  do.  At  last  her 
love  of  adventure  overcame  her  sense  of  propriety,  and 
she  followed  Mark  to  the  rear  of  the  house  where  a 
door  had  fallen  from  its  hinges,  giving  them  free  access 
to  the  building.  Through  the  lane  to  this  door  a  path 
had  been  worn  by  many  feet,  and  Helen  could  well  be 
lieve  that  it  was  a  rendezvous  for  lovers,  who  either  had 
no  fear  of  'Tina,  or  came  hoping  to  see  her.  "It  would 
have  been  a  great  deal  more  romantic  for  Craig  to  have 
told  his  love  here  than  while  holding  Dido  in  to  keep 
her  from  running  and  screaming  at  he  top  of  his  voice 
to  make  me  hear,  the  wheels  made  such  a  clatter  over 
the  stones  and  ruts,''  she  thought,  as  she  followed  Mark 
in  to  what  had  been  the  family  room  where  'Tina  sat 
when  the  tragedy  outside  went  on  and  where  the  baby 
boy  called  so  often  for  his  mother.  Through  the 
paneless  window  the  moonlight  was  shining,  making 
the  loom  almost  as  light  as  day,  except  in  the  corners 
where  dark  shadows  lay.  Something  was  stirring  in 
one  of  them  and  with  a  cry  of  fear  Helen  pressed  close 
to  Mark,  who  took  her  hand  and  led. her  to  an  old  settee 
which  stood  by  the  wide  fire  place. 

"It  is  only  a  rat ;  the  house  is  full  of  them,"  he  ex 
plained,  as  he  sat  down  beside  her. 

"Oh-h  !  I  have  a  mortal  terror  of  rats  and  mice,  too. 
Let's  go,"  Helen  cried  as  she  drew  her  feet  up  from  the 
floor. 

"No,  not  yet,"  Mark  said.     "There's  a  chair  some- 


174  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

where  in  which  you  can  put  your  feet  and  be  safe  from 
the  marauders." 

He  found  the  chair  and  brought  it  to  her;  then  resum 
ing  his  seat  he  continued:  "I  am  afraid  you  are  not 
pleased  with  my  ancestral  halls." 

Now  that  she  was  in  no  danger  from  the  rats,  Helen 
was  less  nervous  and  began  to  look  around  her  with 
some  curiosity. 

"It  is  a  creepy  kind  of  place  and  the  last  I  should 
choose  for  a  rendezvous,"  she  said.  "Why  did  you 
bring  me  here?" 

"Because  there  is  something  I  must  say  to  you  which 
I  can  say  better  here  than  where  we  would  be  liable  to 
interruptions,"  Mark  replied,  putting  his  arm  on  the 
back  of  the  settee  where  it  would  be  very  convenient 
for  it  to  drop  across  her  shoulders.  "I  told  you  the 
story  of  this  house  in  the  cemetery,  by  'Tina's  grave, 
and  only  the  fact  that  I  had  known  you  so  short  a  time 
prevented  me  from  telling  you  another  story  which  I 
have  brought  you  here  to  listen  to.  You  have  heard 
it  many  times,  for  I  know  your  reputation,  and  I  believe 
that  when  you  came  to  Ridgefield  Craig  Mason  was 
your  object." 

Helen  did  not  speak,  and  Mark  continued:  (<I  have 
watched  events  closely.  Craig  is  interested  in  you.  How 
could  it  be  otherwise,  but  I  do  not  believe  he  will  ever 
have  the  courage  to  declare  himself.  He  is  not  a  ladies' 
man, — is  not  your  style.  He  is  a  student,  self-absorbed 
and  quiet,  caring  nothing  for  the  things  which  make 
your  world.  He  is  the  soul  of  honor,  and  a  splendid 
fellow,  with  no  fault  or  bad  habit,  such  as  most  men 
have.  He  neither  smokes,  nor  drinks,  nor  swears,  and 
is  as  pure  in  thought  and  speech  as  a  \yoman, — purer 
than  many," 


IN  THE   HAUNTED   HOUSE.  175 

"Then  why  are  you  running  him  down  ?"  Helen  asked, 
and  Mark  replied,  "I  am  not  running-  him  down,  and  I 
hardly  know  why  I  am  speaking  of  him  at  all,  except 
that  it  seems  as  if  he  were  near  us,  or  that  I  was  taking 
an  unfair  advantage  of  his  absence." 

Helen's  hand  was  in  her  pocket  clutching  Craig's  let 
ter,  with  a  view  to  bring  it  out  and  declare  what  he  was 
to  her.  But  she  didn't.  Years  after,  when  so  much 
was  said  of  hypnotism,  she  recalled  that  night  and  said 
she  was  hypnotized,  but  she  did  not  think  so  then.  She 
only  knew  that  the  man  beside  her  talking  of  the  man 
to  whom  she  was  engaged  had  a  power  over  her 
which  she  did  not  try  to  analyze,  nor  resist.  His  arm  had 
dropped  from  the  settee  and  was  lying  across  her  shoul 
ders  and  she  did  not  shake  it  off,  as  he  went  on : 

"I  respect  Mr.  Mason  highly,  but  he  is  not  the  one 
to  make  you  happy.  Domesticity  is  his  idea  of  married 
life.  Yours  is  different.  He  has  hobbys.  The  present 
one  is  Browning,  for  whom  you  do  not  care  a  rap." 

"How  do  you  know  that?"  Helen  asked  sharply,  and 
Mark  replied,  "I  know  it  as  I  know  you,  and  Craig  does 
not.  You  cannot  help  making  believe,  and  with  him 
it  passes  for  the  real  coin.  If  you  were  his  wife  there 
would  come  an  awakening  which  he  would  find  it  hard 
to  forget." 

"You  are  complimentary,  I  must  say,  and  if  you 
brought  me  here  to  lecture  me  and  tell  me  how  unfit 
I  am  to  be  anybody's  wife,  I  think  it  time  we  were 
going,"  Helen  said,  making  an  effort  to  rise. 

Mark  held  her  back,  his  arm  encircling  her  now  so 
tightly  that  she  was  close  against  his  side. 

"I  know  I  have  not  been  very  complimentary  thus  far, 
and  I  dare  say  no  man  has  ever  talked  to  you  as  I  am 
talking  in  order  to  show  you  that  I  know  you  thor- 


176  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

oughly,  and  that  with  all  your  faults  I  love  you,  and 
have  since  the  night  you  came  and  I  carried  you  in  my 
arms  through  the  rain.  Something  then  in  the  touch  of 
your  hands  as  I  put  you  down  gave  .me  an  inkling  of 
your  responsive  nature  and  I  have  watched  you  closely 
since ;  have  seen  every  little  coquettish  air  and  grace, 
and  known,  when  you  dazzled  me  with  your  smile  and 
eyes,  that  it  meant  nothing  except  as  a  pastime  for  you ; 
and  yet,  I  have  gone  on  loving  you  and  sworn  to  win 
you.  Nor  am  I  without  hope.  You  have  given  me 
every  reason  to  think  I  was  not  indifferent  to  you  and 
that  is  why  I  am  telling  you  of  my  love  and  I  warn  you 
not  to  trifle  with  me.  Uncle  Zacheus  does  not  believe  in 
heredity,  but  I  know  there  is  enough  of  my  great-grand 
mother's  nature  in  me  to  send  me  to  the  devil,  or  make 
me  one,  if  circumstances  were  favorable.  If  the  woman 
I  loved  and  who  I  had  reason  to  believe  loved  me 
thwarted  and  scorned  me,  I  should  not  murder  her,  but 
there  is  in  me  a  fire  which  would  burn  out  all  the  good 
and  deliver  me  over  to  the  evil  one." 

His  voice  was  almost  a  whisper  as  he  poured  out  the 
full  measure  of  his  love,  while  Helen  sat  still,  knowing 
that  his  arm  was  drawing  her  to  him  and  that  his  face 
was  close  to  hers.  He  made  no  allusion  to  the  difference 
in  their  positions.  He  put  himself  on  an  equality  with 
herself  and  she  respected  him  for  it  and  knew  that  she 
loved  him  if  it  were  possible  for  her  to  love  any  one. 
She  had  no  intention  to  be  false  to  Craig,  on  whose 
letter  she  still  kept  her  hand,  meaning  to  bring  it  out 
and  show  it  at  the  last.  She  told  herself  that  she  had 
expected  something  like  this  and  knew  that  she  was 
very  happy  and  wished  it  might  go  on  forever. 

Mark  was  waiting  for  her  to  speak,  and  she  must 
bring  out  the  letter.  She  did  not  dare  let  go  her  hold 


IN  THE   HAUNTED   HOUSE  177 

on  it,  for  it  seemed  to  her  as  if  she  were  holding  on  to 
Craig  as  long  as  she  felt  the  touch  of  the  paper  he  had 
handled.  Tears,  which  came  to  her  so  easily,  were  pour 
ing  down  her  cheeks.  She  must  wipe  them  away ;  as 
Mark  had  taken  one  of  her  hands  she  had  no  alternative 
but  to  withdraw  the  other  from  her  pocket  and  in  so 
doing  lost  her  grip  in  more  ways  than  one. 

"You  do  love  me  a  little?"  Mark  pleaded  and  lifting 
her  tear  drenched  face  to  his  she  answered,  "Yes,  a 
little.  I  can't  help  it,  but — 

She  did  not  finish  the  sentence  for  the  kisses  pressed 
upon  her  lips  brought  her  to  her  senses. 

"Mark !  Mr.  Hilton !  How  dare  you  take  such  a  lib 
erty.  No  man  has  ever  kissed  me  since  my  father  died,— 
not  even  Mr.  Mason,  and  I  am  engaged  to  him !  It  hap 
pened  yesterday,  when  we  were  driving.  This  letter  is 
from  him." 

She  took  it  from  her  pocket  as  she  sprang  to  her  feet 
and  held  it  as  a  barrier  between  herself  and  Mark,  who 
had  also  risen  and  whose  face  was  white  as  the  moon 
light  falling  over  it. 

"Engaged  to  Craig  Mason !"  he  said,  seizing  her  arm 
with  a  grasp  which  made  her  wince  with  pain.  "Yot1 
are  engaged  to  Craig  Mason,  and  have  sat  here  and 
listened  to  me  without  a  word!  Are  you  woman,  or  a 
demon  ?" 

"Don't  speak  to  me  like  that,  and  let  go  my  arm !  You 
hurt !  I  tried  to  tell  you,  but  couldn't,  you  influence  me 
so,  and —  '  Helen  said,  putting  her  hands  over  her 
face  and  crying  out  loud. 

In  a  moment  Mark's  anger  left  him,  and  his  great 
love  came  surging  back. 

"Forgive  me,"  he  said.    "I  was  a  brute,  but  you  took 


1/8  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

me  by  surprise.  Sit  down  until  you  are  more  com 
posed." 

He  felt  for  a  moment  as  if  the  earth  were  slipping  from 
him,  leaving  him  utterly  stranded ;  then  his  indomitable 
will  came  to  the  rescue  and  he  was  himself  again,  quiet, 
tender,  earnest,  with  his  magnetic  powers  in  full  swing. 
She  had  said,  "You  influence  me  so,"  and  this  gave  him 
courage.  Taking  her  hands  from  her  face  he  held  them 
in  his  and  said  to  her  jestingly,  "You  say  no  man  has 
ever  kissed  you  since  your  father  died,  and  you  are 
engaged  to  Mr.  Mason.  I  am  afraid  he  did  not  claim 
his  privileges." 

"He  couldn't;  he  had  all  he  could  do  to  keep  Dido 
from  running  away,  and  the  wheels  made  such  a  racket 
I  couldn't  hear  half  he  was  saying,"  Helen  replied  be 
tween  a  sob  and  a  laugh  as  she  recalled  Craig's  love 
making,  so  different  from  the  one  she  had  just  experi 
enced. 

Her  spirits  were  returning  and  with  them  her  blunted 
sense  of  right  and  wrong,  and  when  the  moon  looked 
into  the  room  at  a  different  angle  from  what  it  was  look 
ing  then,  there  were  no  tears  on  her  face  and  her  head 
was  on  Mark  Hilton's  shoulder,  as  if  that  were  its  right 
ful  resting  place.  Love  was  triumphant.  Conscience 
had  been  smothered,  or  if  it  pricked  at  all  it  was  quieted 
with  the  thought,  "I  could  not  help  it,  and  Craig  will 
soon  get  over  it." 

Everything"  was  settled  as  to  what  to  do  and  how  to 
do  it,  Mark  suggesting  and  Helen  yielding  to  whatever 
he  proposed.  She  knew  her  mother  would  be  hard  to 
meet  and  Craig  would  be  harder. 

"We  must  be  quick,"  she  said,  "or  I  shall  change  my 
mind.  I  don't  believe  I  could  endure  the  look  on  Craig's 
face  when  he  knows  how  false  I  am." 


IN  THE   HAUNTED   HOUSE.  179 

Mark  was  fully  aware  of  this.  He  knew  the  girl  better 
than  she  knew  herself.  Opposition  from  her  mother  and 
reproach  from  Craig  would  upset  her  and  he  did  not 
mean  her  to  come  in  contact  with  either.  Fortunately 
for  him  it  had  been  arranged  that  morning  that  he  should 
go  to  New  York  the  next  night  on  business  for  Mr. 
Taylor.  If  Helen  could  be  there  at  the  same  time  all 
would  go  well.  Could  she  manage  it? 

"I  think  so.  Yes,  I  am  sure  I  can,"  she  said,  as  they 
went  back  to  the  hotel,  where  they  found  Mrs.  Tracy 
very  anxious  to  know  what  had  kept  her  daughter  so 
long." 

"The  night  is  so  fine  that  I  wanted  to  enjoy  it  and  see 
if  it  would  help  my  head  which  aches  awfully.  I  must 
go  to  bed  at  once,"  Helen  said. 

She  was  longing  to  be  alone  and  think  what  she  was 
doing.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  was  in  a  vise  from 
which  she  could  not  escape,  and  Mark  held  her  even  in 
her  room. 

"I  cannot  go  back  now,"  she  said,  "and  I  would  not  if 
I  could.  I  do  not  love  Craig  Mason  and  I  do  love  Mark 
Hilton.  The  world  will  call  it  a  mesalliance  and  I  sup 
pose  it  is,  but  love  laughs  at  such  things.  It  would  be 
more  honorable  to  stay  and  meet  Craig  face  to  face  and 
ask  for  a  release.  But  I  can't  do  it.  With  mother  going 
into  hysterics,  as  she  certainly  would,  I  might  yield." 

She  was  removing  her  jacket  and  felt  Craig's  letter  in 
the  pocket.  It  was  crumpled  and  tear  stained,  for  she 
had  kept  it  in  her  hands  before  her  face  when  she  was 
crying.  She  studied  the  address, — "Miss  Helen  Tracy, 
Prospect  House,  Ridgefield,  Mass.,"  carefully,  and  with 
a  little  choking  in  her  throat. 

"It  is  like  him,"  she  thought.  "Every  letter  precise 
and  square  and  plain  as  print." 


i8o  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

Then  she  wondered  what  was  inside.  How  had  he 
addressed  her?  Was  it  a  genuine  love  letter  or  not? 
She  could  easily  ascertain  by  opening  it,  but  something 
in  the  better  part  of  her  nature  made  her  shrink  from 
doing  this.  She  had  separated  herself  from  Craig  and 
the  letter  did  not  belong  to  her. 

"I'll  return  it  unopened  in  the  one  I  must  write  him," 
she  finally  decided,  and  putting  it  away  she  tried  to  sleep, 
but  could  not. 

Her  conscience  was  not  at  rest,  although  she  told 
herself  she  was  very  happy,  or  should  be  when  it  was 
over  and  people  had  ceased  to  talk. 

"It  will  cause  a  great  commotion  in  this  quiet  town 
and  give  them  something  to  gossip  about  for  a  month," 
she  said,  "and  I  can  almost  hear  Mr.  Taylor's  Til  be 
dumbed,'  when  it  comes  to  his  ears." 

She  laughed  when  she  thought  of  that,  and  burying 
her  face  in  her  pillow  tried,  by  counting  a  hundred  back 
wards  and  every  other  device  she  had  ever  heard  of,  to 
sleep,  but  in  vain,  and  morning  found  her  just  as  wakeful 
as  she  had  been  when  she  first  sought  her  bed. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

THE   DENOUEMENT. 

IT  was  not  a  feigned  headache  of  which  she  complained 
when  she  went  down  to  breakfast.  Her  temples  were 
throbbing  with  pain  and  there  were  dark  circles  around 
her  eyes. 

"Mother,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  to  New  York  on  the 
noon  train  to  see  Dr.  Allen.  I  believe  I  am  malarious, 


THE   DENOUEMENT.  l8l 

I  am  having  so  much  headache  and  feel  so  languid. 
Charlotte,  you  know,  is  in  our  house.  I  can  stay  there 
to-night  and  come  back  to-morrow." 

Mrs.  Tracy  was  at  once  concerned  and  anxious  and 
unwilling  to  have  her  go  alone,  or  to  have  her  go  at  all. 

"Why  not  consult  some  physician  in  town?" 

"Yes,  and  have  tons  of  quinine  prescribed,  with  a  little 
morphine,  perhaps,  to  make  me  sleep !"  Helen  answered 
impatiently.  "No  country  quacks  for  me.  I  want  my 
good  old  Dr.  Allen  or  nobody." 

"Then  I  shall  go  with  you,  and  for  that  matter  we 
might  as  well  pack  up  and  leave  altogether.  I  am 
quite  ready,"  Mrs.  Tracy  said. 

Here  was  a  dilemma  which  Helen  had  anticipated  and 
which  she  met  promptly. 

"Of  course  not,"  she  said,  in  the  tone  which  usually 
subdued  her  mother.  "Have  you  forgotten  that  Craig 
is  coming  back  on  Saturday?  What  would  he  say  to 
find  us  gone,  and  what  use  for  you  to  fatigue  yourself 
with  a  journey  to  New  York  just  to  chaperone  me?  No, 
mamma ;  make  yourself  comfortable  with  Celine  and 
don't  worry  about  me.  If  there  are  any  errands  I  can 
do  for  you  I  may  perhaps  have  the  time.  I  can  at  least 
see  the  fashions." 

Mrs.  Tracy  was  not  convinced  and  to  the  last  insisted 
that  if  Helen  must  go  she  or  Celine  ought  to  go  with  her. 

"I  tell  you  I  prefer  to  go  alone,  and  if  I  can't  do  that 
I'll  not  go  at  all,"  Helen  said,  and  that  decided  it. 

When  Uncle  Zach  was  told  of  the  arrangement  and 
asked  to  have  Paul  and  Virginia  ready  to  take  her  to 
the  station  for  the  noon  train,  he  was  at  once  on  the 
alert  for  the  reputation  of  his  house. 

"Got  malary  here !  That  can't  be.  There  ain't  no 
sweeter  drain  in  the  state.  Dot  never  pours  bean  water 


1 82  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

in  it  and  keeps  it  stuffed  with  copperas  all  the  time. 
No,  sir!  'Tain't  malary.  It's  bile,  and  boneset  tea  is 
good  for  that.  Dot'll  steep  you  some." 

Helen  declined  the  boneset  and  insisted  upon  New 
York. 

"Wall,  then,  why  not  wait  till  night?  Mark  is  goin' 
on  the  eight  train,  and  will  see  to  you,"  was  Mr.  Taylor's 
next  suggestion,  and  when  Helen  declined  Mark's  com 
pany,  as  she  had  the  boneset,  saying  she  preferred  to 
go  at  noon,  he  continued :  "Of  course  we'll  send  you 
down ;  and  what  do  you  say  to  Mark's  tacklin'  up  Dido  ? 
She  or'to  be  used  before  she  knocks  the  stable  to  pieces. 
She's  kicked  off  two  boards  already." 

From  this  proposition  Helen  recoiled.  To  have  Mark 
drive  her  to  the  station  after  Dido  would  be  the  acme 
of  cruelty  and  insult  to  Craig. 

"No,  no,"  she  said.  "I  don't  want  Dido.  Let  Sam 
take  me  when  he  goes  to  the  train." 

"Mebby  that  will  be  best,  as  Mark  is  kinder  busy 
lookin'  over  papers  and  castin'  up  accounts,"  was  Uncle 
Zach's  reply,  as  he  went  to  order  Sam  to  have  the  car 
riage  and  Paul  and  Virginny  ready  for  the  noon  train. 

Helen  felt  like  a  guilty  thing  as  she  made  her  prepara 
tions,  and  once  resolved  to  give  it  up.  Going  to  the 
office  where  she  found  Mark  alone,  she  said  to  him, 
"I  can't  do  it.  I'd  rather  stay  and  brave  mother  and 
Craig  tHan  sneak  off  this  way." 

"Very  well,"  Mark  said,  looking  at  her  with  an  ex 
pression  before  which  her  eyes  fell.  "Suit  yourself,"  and 
he  turned  to  his  papers  again. 

"Do  you  wish  to  give  it  up?"  she  asked  timidly,  and 
he  replied,  "Certainly  not  for  myself.  But  I  know  you, 
and  that  between  your  mother  and  Mr.  Mason  I  should 


THE  DENOUEMENT.  183 

get  the  worst  of  it  and  lose  you,  while  you  might  lose 
us  both." 

This  was  a  catastrophe  which  Helen  did  not  care  to 
contemplate.  She  had  staked  everything  and  could  not 
lose. 

'Til  go,"  she  said. 

Mark  put  out  his  hand  and  taking  one  of  hers  pressed 
it  warmly  as  he  said,  "My  darling,  you  shall  never  re 
gret  it." 

After  this  there  was  no  wavering  on  Helen's  part. 
She  ate,  or  tried  to  eat,  her  early  lunch ;  was  very  loving 
to  her  mother  when  she  said  good-bye,  and  went  so  far 
as  to  kiss  Mrs.  Taylor,  who  wondered  at  her  effusiveness, 
\rhen  she  was  to  be  gone  so  short  a  time.  As  she  passed 
the  office  Mark  sauntered  to  the  door  and  said,  "Off  so 
soon?  Is  it  time?" 

"Yes,  good-bye,'''  she  answered  gayly,  while  he  re 
turned  to  the  papers  and  accounts  he  was  putting  in 
order  for  his  successor,  and  feeling  pangs  of  remorse  as 
he  thought  how  Mr.  Taylor  would  miss  and  mourn  for 
him. 

Uncle  Zacheus  went  to  the  station  with  Helen,  and  at 
the  last  moment  when  the  train  was  in  sight  he  said  to 
her,  "Wall,  good-bye.  You'll  be  comin'  back  tomorrer, 
or  I  should  be  sorry,  you  seem  so  like  our  folks." 

She  grasped  his  pudgy  hand  and  said,  "I  can't  begin 
to  tell  you  how  kind  you  have  been  to  me,  or  how  much 
I  have  enjoyed  myself  at  your  house.  Good-bye." 

She  pressed  his  hand  to  her  lips  and  stepped  upon  the 
train,  which  was  soon  bearing  her  away  across  the  mead 
ow  lands  between  the  river  and  the  cemetery,  where  her 
grandfather's  tall  monument  was  the  last  thing  on  which 
her  eyes  rested.  It  was  many  years  before  she  saw  it 
again. 


1 84  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

On  the  platform  where  she  had  left  him  Uncle  Zacheus 
stood,  looking  at  the  back  of  his  hand  as  earnestly  as 
if  he  could  see  the  kiss  Helen  had  imprinted  there. 

"Wall,  I'll  be  dumbed,"  he  soliloquized.  "Yes,  I  will, 
if  this  ain't  droll.  A  young  gal  like  her  kissin'  an  old 
codger  like  me !  I  wonder  what  Dot  would  think  of  it  ? 
I  guess  I  won't  tell  her.  She  mightn't  like  it.  She 
hain't  kissed  me  since  I  can  remember." 

If  the  kiss  had  been  in  a  tangible  form  Uncle  Zach 
would  have  put  it  away  in  the  hair  trunk  with  Taylor's 
Tavern  and  little  Johnny's  blanket.  As  it  was  he  kept 
one  hand  carefully  over  the  spot  which  Helen's  lips  had 
touched  and  smoothed  it  occasionally  as  he  was  driven 
back  to  the  hotel. 

"Fust  rate  girl,"  he  said  to  Mark,  to  whom  he  began 
to  talk  of  what  he  was  to  do  in  New  York.  "When  you 
git  your  business  done  stay  a  day  or  two,  if  you  want  to," 
he  said.  "It's  some  time  sense  you  was  there,  and  if 
I's  you  I'd  call  at  Miss  Tracy's.  They  say  her  home  is 
grand.  You  know  where  'tis?" 

"Yes,"  Mark  answered. 

He  could  say  no  more  for  the  lump  which  was  choking 
him  as  he  kept  on  with  his  work.  It  was  harder  leaving 
the  old  place  than  he  had  anticipated,  and  had  Helen 
been  there  then  and  said,  "Let's  give  it  up,"  he  might 
have  listened  to  her.  Helen  was  gone.  He  would  not 
be  less  courageous  than  she,  and  he  kept  on  until  every 
paper  and  account  was  labeled  and  in  its  place,  easy  to 
find  and  examine.  Then  he  went  through  the  rooms  of 
the  hotel  one  by  one,  saying  good-bye  to  them,  and 
always  with  that  lump  in  his  throat,  making  him  swal 
low  hard  to  keep  it  down. 

"I  am  as  weak  as  a  woman,"  he  said  to  himself,  when 
he  went  to  the  stables  to  say  good-bye  to  the  horses. 


THE   DENOUEMENT.  185 

He  was  fond  of  animals,  and  both  Paul  and  Vir 
ginia  turned  their  heads  towards  him  and  whinnied  as 
he  came  in.  In  her  box  stall  Dido  was  corvetting  round 
as  well  as  she  could  in  that  small  space,  pawing  with  her 
fore  feet  and  kicking  occasionally  with  her  hind  ones 
as  the  spirit  moved  her.  She,  too,  whinnied  when  she 
saw  Mark  and  looked  beyond  him  toward  the  door. 

''I  believe  she  is  looking  for  her  master,  or  Helen," 
Mark  thought,  as  he  remembered  that  the  latter  had 
frequently  brought  her  apples  and  tufts  of  fresh  grass. 
"Dido,"  he  said,  stroking  her  glossy  coat,  "are  you  ex 
pecting  Helen?  She's  gone.  She  will  never  come  back, 
or  drive  behind  you  again.  Are  you  sorry?" 

There  was  almost  a  human  look  in  the  dumb  creature's 
eyes,  as  Mark  talked  to  her,  and  he  half  felt  that  he  was 
understood. 

"Good-bye,  Dido,  and  Paul  and  Virginia,"  he  said,  as 
he  left  the  stable  and  closed  the  door. 

Just  outside  he  met  Jeff.  Next  to  Helen  Jeff  was 
dearer  to  Mark  than  any  other  living  creature.  He  had 
rescued  him  from  the  street;  there  was  a  kind  of  link 
between  them  connecting  them  with  the  tragedy  of  the 
Dalton  house,  and  the  man's  heart  yearned  towards  the 
boy. 

"Jeff,"  he  said,"  when  I  am  in  New  York  I  may  look 
around  for  some  place  different  from  this.  If  I  find  one 
and  go  there  later,  would  you  like  to  live  with  me?" 

"In  New  York?  You  bet!"  was  Jeff's  reply,  as  he 
darted  away. 

Mark  did  not  dare  to  be  very  demonstrative  in  his 
adieus  to  the  family  lest  they  should  wonder  at  it.  Mrs. 
Tracy,  who  always  treated  him  as  an  inferior  had  seen  the 
safe  opened  that  morning  and  knew  her  diamonds  were 
there,  and  it  was  not  necessary  to  speak  to  her  at  all. 


1 86  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

He  found  Mrs.  Taylor,  with  whom  he  shook  hands,  feel 
ing  glad  that  it  was  dusky  in  the  hall  so  she  could  not 
see  his  face. 

"Yes,  I  am  weaker  than  a  woman  and  weaker  than 
water,"  he  thought,  as  he  felt  his  knees  shake  under  him, 
for  the  hardest  was  yet  to  come,  the  saying  good-bye  to 
Uncle  Zach,  who  was  standing  on  the  walk,  bareheaded 
in  a  misty  rain  which  was  beginning  to  fall. 

"Good-bye,  Mark,  my  boy,"  he  said  cheerily.  "Have 
a  good  time,  and  don't  hurry  back.  It's  lonesome  with 
out  you,  but  I  can  stan'  it  and  git  along  a  day  or  two, 
and  if  you  see  that  gal  give  her  Uncle  Zach's  love." 

Mark  could  not  reply,  and  opening  his  umbrella  and 
taking  up  his  gripsack  he  walked  rapidly  away,  stopping 
once  at  the  corner  to  look  back  at  the  house,  at  the  lights 
in  the  kitchen  and  office  and  Mrs.  Tracy's  salon  and  at 
Dot  standing  in  the  door  and  calling  to  her  husband  to 
come  in  out  of  the  rain  before  he  took  his  death  cold. 

"There'll  be  an  awful  hubbub  there  in  two  or  three 
days,"  he  said,  as  he  hurried  away  in  the  darkness  to 
catch  the  train  whose  faint  rumble  he  heard  in  the  dis 
tance. 

This  was  Wednesday  night  and  neither  Mark  nor 
Helen  came  back  the  next  day,  nor  the  next,  nor  was 
anything  heard  from  them,  and  Mrs.  Tracy  began  to 
feel  anxious  about  her  daughter. 

"I  told  Mark  to  stay  if  he  wanted  to,  and  I  don't  expect 
him  till  to-morrow.  Mabby  they'll  come  together.  I 
b'lieve  he  was  goin'  to  call  on  her,"  Uncle  Zach  said  to 
her  on  Friday  afternoon,  when  she  suggested  telegraph 
ing  to  Helen,  and  questioned  him  with  regard  to  the  safe, 
which  troubled  him  so.  to  open  that  she  had  not  been 
near  it  since  Wednesday,  when  her  diamonds  were  there 
as  usual, 


THE   DENOUEMENT.  187 

She  was  getting  accustomed  to  finding  them  all  right, 
and  did  not  worry  about  them  now  as  at  first.  Still  they 
were  on  her  mind  and  she  said  to  Mr.  Taylor,  "If  Mr. 
Hilton  does  not  come  back  to-morrow,  you  must  open 
the  safe  somehow." 

"I  will,  I  will;  yes  marm,  I  will;  yes  marm,"  Uncle 
Zach  replied. 

He  was  in  the  habit  of  "yes-marm-ing"  Mrs.  Tracy, 
when  talking  with  her,  and  he  was  quite  profuse  with 
his  "yes-inarms"  as  he  assured  her  that  Mark  would  be 
back  and  the  safe  opened  by  the  next  day  at  the  farthest. 
She  had  tossed  her  head  proudly  when  he  spoke  of 
Mark's  calling  at  her  house  and  of  Helen  coming  back 
with  him.  Mark  was  scum  in  her  estimation,  as  were 
all  the  people  outside  her  set,  and  thus  she  was  poorly 
prepared  for  the  shock  which  awaited  her  Saturday 
morning,  when  the  New  York  mail  was  in.  Mark  did 
not  come,  nor  Helen,  but  there  was  a  letter  from  the 
latter,  which  Mrs.  Tracy  opened  eagerly  and  read  with 
her  eyes  staring  wildly  at  what  the  letter  contained.  It 
was  as  follows : 

"New  York,  Friday  afternoon. 
"Dear  Mother : 

"I  was  married  to  Mark  Hilton  yesterday  morning, 
and  to-night  \ve  start  for  Chicago.  Don't  faint  and  make 
a  scene.  It  will  help  nothing.  I  love  my  husband  and 
he  loves  me,  and  we  shall  be  happy  together.  As  to  his 
position  that  don't  count.  He  is  my  husband,  and 
whoever  receives  me  will  receive  him. 

"I  am  sorry  about  Mr.  Mason.  It  was  a  mean  thing 
to  do,  and  he  is  too  good  a  man  to  be  served  such  a 
trick.  Still  it  is  better  for  him  to  be  rid  of  me.  We  are 


1 88  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

not  at  all  alike,  and  it  would  hurt  him  more  to  be  de 
ceived  in  his  wife  than  in  his  fiancee. 

"When  I  know  where  we  are  to  live  I  will  write 
you  again.  Perhaps  you  will  cut  me  off  entirely,  but 
that  won't  pay;  and  if  you  do  you  know  I  have  quite 
a  fortune  of  my  own.  Mark  says,  tell  Mr.  Taylor  the 
business  he  was  to  transact  for  him  in  New  York  is  sat 
isfactorily  arranged  for  200  dollars  more  than  he  ex 
pected.  The  ledger  and  papers  of  the  hotel  are  per 
fectly  straight.  Mark  saw  to  that. 

"If  the  safe  has  been  opened  you  will  probably  find 
one  box  of  diamonds  gone, — the  pin  and  ear-rings.  They 
were  to  be  mine  on  my  wedding  day.  It  was  no  theft  to 
take  them  and  I  had  Mark  bring  them  with  him.  I  do 
not  care  for  the  pin  and  shall  leave  it  for  you  with 
Charlotte,  who  is  dazed  with  what  has  happened,  but 
says  Mr.  Hilton  is  the  handsomest  man  she  ever  saw.  I 
think  so,  too.  When  we  are  settled  you  can  send  my 
clothes  which  are  in  Ridgefield  to  me,  if  you  choose. 
If  not,  all  right.  I  am  sorry  I  was  obliged  to  tell  you  so 
many  fibs.  I  had  to  do  something,  and  I  did  have  a  great 
deal  of  headache,  and  I  have  been  to  see  the  doctor.  Tell 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor  I  shall  never  forget  their  kindness, 
and  sometime  I  may  visit  them  again  when  they  have 
forgotten  how  bad  I  was  to  Mr.  Mason. 

"I  must  go  now  and  help  Charlotte  with  my  trunks. 
Good-bye,  mother.  You  said  I'd  take  up  with  a  crooked 
stick ;  but  I  haven't.  Mark  is  straight  as  an  arrow,  and 
I  am  very  happy. 

"Your  naughty,  but  loving  daughter, 

"HELEN  TRACY  HILTON." 


WHAT   FOLLOWED.  189 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

WHAT  FOLLOWED. 

MRS.  TRACY  went  into  violent  hysterics,  which  brought 
Celine  and  Mrs.  Taylor  and  Sarah,  and  at  last  Mr.  Tay 
lor  and  Jeff,  to  her  room,  her  sobs  were  so  loud,  amount 
ing  almost  to  screams. 

"What  has  happened?  Is  mademoiselle  dead?"  Celine 
asked,  and  her  mistress  replied,  "Worse  than  dead !  She 
is  married  to  Mark  Hilton !  Going  to  New  York  was 
a  trick  to  deceive  us.  And  your  precious  clerk,  whom 
you  trusted  so  implicitly,  has  taken  my  diamonds.  Open 
the  safe." 

The  last  part  of  the  remark  was  addressed  to  Mrs.  Tay 
lor,  who  hurried  to  the  office,  followed  by  the  entire 
party. 

"Well,  I'll  be  dumbed  if  I  thought  that  of  Mark,"  he 
gasped.  "There  must  be  some  hereditary  in  him  after 
all,  and  I'd  of  swore  there  wasn't.  Eloped !  Run  away, 
did  you  say,  and  took  them  diamonds  with  him?  I'll  be 
dumbed !  Yes,  marm,  I  will." 

He  could  scarcely  stand  as  he  began  fumbling  at  the 
safe,  trying  to  unlock  it,  but  it  baffled  all  his  efforts. 

"I  ain't  used  to  the  pesky  thing.  Mark  always  attended 
to  it,  and  I'll  be  dumbed  if  I  can  budge  it." 

The  sweat  was  pouring  off  his  face  as  he  got  up  from 
his  knees  and  looked  helplessly  round. 

"Let  me  try.     You  know  I  opened  it  once,"  Jeff  said. 

No  one  objected,  and  the  door  was  soon  open,  Uncle 
Zach  and  Jeff  bumping  their  heads  together  to  look  in. 

"Jerusalem  crickets  !     They  are  gone !"  Jeff  said. 

"So  they  be.  That  is, — one  of  the  boxes  ;  here's  t'other," 


THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

Uncle  Zach  rejoined  in  a  choking  voice,  as  he  took  out 
the  box  which  contained  the  cross.  "I  feel  like  a  thief 
myself.  Yes,  marm,  I  do.  Can  they  arrest  me  as  an— 
I  dunno  what  you  call  it, — knowin'  to  it  is  what  it 
means?  Where's  Dot?  Seems  'sif  the  bottom  had  fell 
out;  Mark  gone  off  and  got  married  and  took  the  dia 
monds,  too !" 

The  little  man  felt  the  need  of  some  one  to  lean  on 
in  the  calamity  which  had  overtaken  him  and  naturally 
turned  to  his  wife.  She  was  attending  to  Mrs.  Tracy, 
who,  when  sure  the  diamonds  were  gone,  went  into  a 
fit  of  hysterics  worse  than  the  first,  and  was  taken  to  her 
room,  where  Mrs.  Taylor,  Celine  and  Sarah  were  busy 
fanning  her,  holding  salts  to  her  nose,  bathing  her  face 
in  alcohol  and  cologne  and  loosening  her  dress  which 
was  in  danger  of  being  ruined  with  all  the  liquids  spilled 
upon  it.  Only  Jeff  was  left  to  comfort  Uncle  Zach. 

"  'Rest  you  ?  No.  I'd  laugh.  You've  done  nothin'. 
Sarah  took  up  the  letter  when  Miss  Tracy  was  at  the 
worst  and  read  a  few  lines,  and  I  heard  her  say  Miss 
Helen  told  Mark  to  bring  'em  'cause  they  were  hern. 
Nobody's  stole  'em,  and  if  I'se  you,  or  anybody,  I 
wouldn't  talk  about  'em.  Who's  to  be  your  clerk,  sir, 
now  Mark  is  gone?" 

"Oh,  land  if  I  know.  I  can't  think  o<  nothin'  but  the 
trick  Mark  has  served  me,  and  I  liked  him  as  I  would 
of  liked  Johnny  if  he  had  lived,"  Mr.  Taylor  replied, 
while  the  tears  rolled  down  his  face. 

"Don't  cry.  Take  my  handkerchief  and  wipe  up.  We'll 
get  along.  How  would  7  do  to  help  you  till  somebody 
turns  up?  I  know  what  Mark  did,  and  I'll  do  my  best," 
Jeff  said. 

The  boy  had  grown  old  within  an  hour,  and  Mr.  Tay 
lor  felt  the  comfort  of  his  helpful  nature.  He  took  the 


'  WHAT   FOLLOWED.  19! 

handkerchief  offered  him, — a  rather  soiled  one,  with  a 
bit  of  gum  sticking  to  it, — but  it  was  better  than  none 
to  wipe  away  his  tears,  which  he  said  he  didn't  want 
the  women  folks  to  see.  There  was  no  danger,  as  they 
were  still  with  Mrs.  Tracy,  who  had  gone  into  a  chill 
and  whom  they  were  putting  to  bed  with  hot  water 
bottles  and  hot  drinks  and  whatever  else  they  thought 
would  warm  her.  Uncle  Zach  was  glad  of  Jeff's  com 
panionship  and  clung  to  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  man 
instead  of  a  boy  of  twelve. 

"It's  a  good  idea  your  helpin'  me  till  I  find  somebody," 
he  said.  "Better  lock  up  the  safe  and  shut  them  blinds. 
The  sun  hurts  my  eyes.  If  anybody  comes  you  know 
what  to  charge  for  meals  and  feedin'  horses  and  stayin' 
all  night." 

"Yes,  sir,  and  I  can  make  change  most  as  quick  as 
Mark  and  add  up,  too,"  Jeff  said,  whistling  cheerily 
as  he  shut  the  blinds  and  brought  out  the  register  and 
the  account  books  as  he  had  seen  Mark  do. 

He  was  not  greatly  surprised  at  what  had  happened. 
He  had  seen  it  coming  and  had  felt  a  pleasurable  ex 
citement  in  watching  its  progress.  But  why  run  away, 
as  in  one  sense  they  had?  This  puzzled  him,  as  he  went 
about  his  work.  Stopping  suddenly  he  turned  to  Mr. 
Taylor  and  said,  "There's  a  letter  here  for  Miss  Tracy. 
It  came  yesterday.  I  b'lieve  it  is  from  Mr.  Mason,  and 
there's  one  from  her,  I  guess,  to  him.  It  is  the  same 
handwriting  as  the  one  to  her  mother.  Do  you  think 
there  was  anythig  between  them?  You  know  he  rode 
with  her  a  good  deal,  but  she  sparked  the  most  with 
Mark.  I  seen  'em." 

"Oh-h,  I  did  think  so  one  spell,  but  it  can't  be ;  that 
would  be  wust  of  all,"  Mr.  Taylor  groaned. 

He  had  no  suspicion  of  the  real  truth,  nor  had  any 


IQ2  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

one  except  Mrs.  Tracy,  who  kept  the  knowledge  to 
herself.  If  possible  she  would  spare  her  daughter,  and 
Craig,  too,  that  notoriety  and  talk.  She  knew  he  had 
telegraphed  to  Helen  that  he  would  return  that  day,  but 
she  did  not  know  on  what  train,  nor  did  she  speak  of  him 
to  any  one.  She  was  in  too  collapsed  a  state  to  talk 
and  kept  her  bed,  crying  continually  and  occasionally 
going  off  into  a  hysterical  spasm  as  the  remembrance  of 
her  trouble  came  over  her  afresh.  No  one  thought  of 
Craig,  who  at  four  that  afternoon  took  his  seat  in  the 
express  train  for  Worcester  where  he  was  to  change  for 
the  accommodation  to  Ridgefield.  He  had  in  his  satchel 
several  costly  rings  of  different  shapes  and  sizes  for 
Helen  to  choose  from.  He  had  a  Harper  and  Scribner 
for  her  and  a  daintily  bound  volume  of  Browning's 
Poems,  containing  Pauline,  Paracelsus  and  Sordello, 
the  poems  which  were  associated  intimately  with  her, 
because  he  believed  she  cared  so  much  for  them.  He  had 
also  a  box  of  beautiful  hothouse  roses,  and  he  thought 
many  times  as  the  train  sped  swiftly  on  how  Helen's  eyes 
would  brighten  when  he  gave  them  to  her  and  how  glad 
she  would  be  to  see  him.  He  was  very  happy  and  his 
happiness  had  been  increasing  ever  since  he  left  Ridge- 
field  and  had  talked  with  his  mother. 

He  was  sure  she  did  not  quite  approve  of  Helen,  and 
believed  it  was  because  she  did  not  understand  her  as  he 
did.  When  he  told  her  of  his  engagement  she  was  taken 
by  surprise,  for  although  she  had  seen  the  growing 
intimacy  she  had  tried  to  think  that  nothing  would  come 
of  it,  and  had  hoped  that  on  Helen's  side  it  was  only  a 
flirtation,  which  would  end  as  many  others  had  done. 

"Are  you  sorry?"  Craig  asked,  as  she  did  not  speak 
at  once. 

She  could  not  tell  him  she  was  sorry  when  he  seemed 


WHAT   FOLLOWED.  IQ3 

So  happy,  and  she  replied  evasively,  "Mothers  are  always 
sorry  to  give  their  sons  to  another  woman.  But  I  shall 
try  and  love  your  wife  whoever  she  may  be.  I  shall  not 
be  a  disagreeable  mother-in-law.  Helen  is  the  most 
beautiful  girl  I  have  ever  seen,  and  I  hope  you  will  be 
very  happy  with  her.  When  is  it  to  be  ?" 

She  was  talking  easily  and  naturally,  and  a  load  was 
lifted  from  Craig,  who  told  her  of  his  plans  and  asked  her 
advice  with  regard  to  the  rings  which  she  helped  him 
select,  and  then  went  with  him  to  look  at  a  house  on 
Commonwealth  Avenue  which  was  for  sale  and  of  which 
he  secured  the  refusal.  He  wanted  Helen  to  see  it  before 
he  decided,  and  proposed  to  his  mother  to  invite  Mrs. 
Tracy  and  her  daughter  to  Boston  for  a  few  days  after 
they  left  Ridgefield.  He  had  spoken  of  this  in  his  last 
letter  to  Helen,  which  she  was  never  to  see.  It  had  oc 
curred  to  him  that  it  would  be  a  proper  thing  to  telegraph 
her  of  his  safe  arrival,  and  then  it  occurred  to  him  after 
the  telegram  had  gone  that  a  letter  would  be  still  better. 
He  could  write  what  he  had  not  put  into  words.  He  had 
written  twice, — once  on  Monday,  and  again  on  Thurs 
day.  He  felt  that  he  had  been  rather  cold  in  his  love- 
raaking,  and  he  told  her  so  in  both  letters  and  said  that 
he  meant  to  make  up  for  it  in  the  future.  Had  Helen 
read  the  letter  she  received  she  might  not  have  sat  so 
still  in  the  Haunted  House  and  listened  to  Mark  Hilton. 
But  she  did  not  read  it,  and  she  was  now  Mark's  wife, 
and  Craig  was  standing  on  the  steps  of  the  rear  car  in 
Ridgefield,  ready  to  jump  off  the  moment  it  stopped. 
He  had  his  satchel  in  one  hand  and  his  box  of  roses  in 
the  other,  and  both  were  taken  from  him  before  he  was 
aware  who  the  boy  was  thus  relieving  him.  It  was  Jeff, 
the  soi  disant  head  clerk  of  the  Prospect  House. 

When  it  was  decided  that  he  was  to  stay  in  the  office 


194  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

until  some  older  person  was  found  he  had  scrubbed  his 
face  and  hands,  put  on  his  Sunday  clothes,  combed  and 
brushed  and  parted  his  hair,  as  Mark  wore  his,  and  felt 
himself  quite  equal  to  the  emergency.  Knowing  that 
Craig  was  expected  that  day  he  had  looked  for  him  on 
the  noon  train,  and  when  he  didn't  come,  was  sure  he 
would  arrive  on  the  six. 

"Can  I  go  down  in  the  'bus  with  the  mail  and  meet 
Mr.  Mason,  or  anybody  else  who  happens  to  be  stopping 
off?  You  know  there's  a  little  hotel  opened  on  Elm 
Street,  and  they  are  trying  to  git  your  custom,"  he  said 
to  Mr.  Taylor,  who,  pleased  to  find  him  with  such  an  eye 
to  business,  assented  readily. 

The  'bus  started  from  the  post  office,  and  Jeff  went 
there  to  take  it,  and  climbing  to  the  box  with  the  driver 
lighted  a  cigarette,  when  sure  he  was  out  of  sight  of  the 
Prospect  House.  He  had  been  sent  supperkss  to  bed 
twice  when  bits  of  cigarettes  had  been  found  in  his  pock 
et,  and  it  would  never  do  for  a  similar  indignity  to  be 
offered  to  him  now.  He  was  a  hotel  clerk  and  he 
smoked  on  serenely  till  the  station  was  reached  and  Mr. 
Mason  alighted  from  the  train. 

"I'll  take  your  bag  and  box.  Will  you  walk  or  ride  ?" 
he  said  to  Craig,  who,  realizing  who  it  was  that  had 
taken  possession  of  him,  said  pleasantly,  "Hallo,  Jeff,  is 
it  you?  How  are  you?" 

"First  rate,  but  there's  high  old  Jinx  at  the  hotel,  and 
I'm  the  clerk  now!"  Jeff  replied,  with  quite  an  air  of 
importance. 

"You  the  clerk !  And  high  old  Jinx  ?  What  do  you 
mean?"  Craig  asked,  and  Jeff,  who  was  bursting  to  tell 
the  news,  began :  "Mr.  Hilton  has  gone  off,— run  away, 
—eloped  with  Miss"  Helen,  and  took  the  diamonds. 
They  was  married  Thursday  in  New  York  and  started 


WHAT  FOLLOWED.  195 

last  night  for  Chicago,  and  Miss  Tracy  screeched  so  you 
could  hear  her  across  the  street.  She's  in  bed  now  with 
water  bags  and  flat  irons  and  things,  and  I'm  the  clerk 
pro  tern.  That's  what  Sarah  said.  What  does  pro  tern 
mean?" 

Jeff  had  told  his  story  in  a  breath,  but  was  not  pre 
pared  for  the  effect  it  had  on  Craig,  who  turned  as  white 
as  the  paper  box  which  held  the  roses,  and  grasped  Jeff's 
shoulder  to  steady  himself  and  keep  from  tottering,  if 
not  falling  outright.  It  was  as  if  a  heavy  blow  had  been 
dealt  him  in  his  stomach,  nauseating  and  making  him 
faint  and  dizzy,  and  for  a  moment  he  hardly  knew  where 
he  was. 

"Going  to  ride  ?"  the  'bus  driver  called  to  him. 

Craig  looked  up  and  saw  in  the  'bus  a  woman  who  he 
knew  lived  in  the  town.  He  could  not  face  her  with  that 
terrible  trouble  on  his  mind. 

"I'll  walk,"  he  said,  and  the  'bus  drove  off,  leaving  him 
alone  with  Jeff,  who  was  looking  curiously  at  him. 

"Are  you  sick  ?"  he  asked ;  and  Craig  replied,  "I  think 
so.  Isn't  there  a  short  cut  across  the  fields  to  the  hotel  ?" 

"Yes,  I'll  show  you  the  way.  You  or'to  have  rode. 
You  look  awful  white  and  queer,"  Jeff  said,  starting  up 
the  path  he  always  took  when  going  to  the  river  from 
the  hotel. 

Craig  followed  slowly,  scarcely  seeing  where  he  was 
going,  or  realizing  anything  except  that  something  had 
happened  to  him,  taking  away  his  strength  and  sense. 
When  half  way  up  the  hill  they  came  to  a  stone  wall 
where  there  was  a  gap  with  some  big  boulders  for  steps, 
making  a  kind  of  stile.  Here  Craig  sat  down  to  rest, 
while  Jeff  stood  before  him  puzzled  to  know  what  had 
effected  him  so  suddenly. 

"He  seemed  chipper  as  could  be  when  he  jumped  off 


196  THE  TRACV  DIAMONDS. 

the  train.  Mabby  he  broke  something  inside,"  he  thought, 
just  as  Craig  said  to  him,  "Sit  down  here,  boy,  and  tell 
me  exactly  how  it  was.  Don't  add  nor  subtract.  I  want 
the  whole  truth ;  all  you  know  about  it  from  first  to  last. 
The  marriage,  I  mean.  It  was  not  gotten  up  in  a  day." 

Jeff  had  no  suspicion  of  Craig's  real  interest  in  the 
matter.  He  meant  to  be  loyal  to  Mark,  but  did  not  care 
for  Helen,  or  how  much  blame  he  put  on  her.  He  liked 
to  talk,  and  if  Craig  wanted  the  truth  he  should  have 
it.  Crossing  one  foot  over  the  other,  he  began : 

"Well,  sir,  you  shall  have  the  truth.  Would  you  mind 
my  smoking  a  cigarette  ?" 

Craig  looked  up  in  some  surprise,  knowing  that  such 
things  were  tabooed  by  the  Taylors. 

"I  don't  mind  the  odor,  if  that  is  what  you  mean,"  he 
replied.  "But  I  would  not  do  it  if  I  were  you.  It  is  a 
bad  habit,  and  Mrs.  Taylor  would  not  like  it." 

"All  right,"  Jeff  replied,  and  threw  the  cigarette  away. 
"Now  then,"  he  continued,  "I'm  going  to  tell  you  how  it 
was.  I've  had  my  eyes  open,  and  I  thought  for  a  spell 
'twas  you,  as  you  and  Miss  Helen  rode  together  so  much 
and  sat  so  much  on  the  north  piazza.,  and  talked  about 
them  books  she  didn't  care  a  cent  for,  only  pretended  she 
did  to  please  you." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  Craig  asked  a  little  sharply,  and 
Jeff  replied,  "Them  books  you  used  to  read  out  loud 
sometimes.  L  was  waiting  for  Miss  Alice  once,  and  I 
heard  Miss  Helen  say  she  hated  it  like  pisen,  but  she'd 
got  to  make  b'lieve,  you  was  so  daft  on  him.  What  does 
daft  mean?" 

Craig  did  not  answer,  but  closed  his  eyes  and  leaned 
his  head  against  a  projecting  stone  in  the  wall.  Jeff  was 
lifting  the  veil  and  letting  in  the  light,  and  it  hurt  him 
cruelly. 


WHAT   FOLLOWED.  197 

"Do  you  feel  worse?"  he  asked,  and  Craig  replied, 
"Yes, — no.  No  matter  how  I  feel.  Go  on,  and  never 
mind  the  reading." 

"I's  only  tellin'  you  to  show  how  things  was,  and  that 
if  there  was  any  seducin'  it  was  Miss  Helen  who  did  it. 
Mark  was  some  to  blame,  of  course,  but  she  was  most. 
She  is  not  an  atom  like  t'other  one, — Miss  Alice.  Oh, 
but  she  is  a  dandy,  and  true  as  steel.  Miss  Helen  is  the 
handsomest,  and  when  she  turns  her  eyes  on  you  and 
smiles,  you  are  a  goner.  And  she  rolled  her  eyes  at  Mark 
until  he  didn't  know  what  he  was  about,  and  when  she 
was  talkin'  to  him  in  the  office,  as  she  did  by  the  half 
hour  when  nobody  was  there,  I've  called  him  two  or  three 
times  before  he  heard  me.  She  used  to  sit  on  the  piazzer 
with  him  after  you'd  gone  to  bed,  and  once  she  staid  there 
so  late  her  mother  called  her  and  asked  what  she  was 
doin'. 

"  'Been  talkin'  to  Mr.  Mason,'  she  said,  and  she  spoke 
the  been  low  so  her  mother  couldn't  hear  it,  and  the 
'talkin'  to  Mr.  Mason'  high,  so  she  could  hear.  I  was 
lyin'  in  the  grass  and  heard  her  say,  laughin'  like,  "Tain't 
a  fib.  I  have  been  talking  to  Mr.  Mason.'  I  tell  you,  she's 
a  clipper." 

Craig  felt  he  ought  to  stop  the  boy,  whose  every  word 
was  a  stab,  and  he  opened  his  lips  to  do  so,  then  closed 
them  with  the  thought,  "I  may  as  well  hear  the  whole," 
and  Jeff  went  on :  "The  day  you  went  away  she  talked 
ever  so  long  with  Mark,  and  right  after  supper  they 
started  for  a  walk.  Miss  Taylor  sent  me  over  on  the 
North  Ridgefield  road  on  an  errant  to  Miss  Nichols,  and  I 
staid  a  while  to  play  hide  and  coop  with  the  boys,  and  then 
started  home.  As  I  got  near  the  haunted  house  the  moon 
was  shinin'  so  bright  that  I  said  to  myself,  'I  mean  to  go 
in  and  mabbry  I'll  see  the  woman  who,  they  say,  walks 


198  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

there  wringin'  her  hands.'  I  ain't  a  bit  afraid,  and  I  went 
along  the  lane  on  the  grass  till  I  got  near  a  window,  or 
where  one  used  to  be.  Then  I  heard  voices  very  low, 
almost  a  whisper.  I  knew  it  wasn't  the  ghost,  and  I  crept 
up  still  as  I  could  and  looked  in,  and  who  do  you  s'pose 
was  there  ?" 

Craig's  eyes  were  riveted  on  Jeff,  who  continued:  "Mr. 
Hilton  and  Miss  Helen,  settin'  close  together  with  his 
arm  round  her,  and  she  a  cryin',  while  he  talked  so  low 
I  couldn't  understand,  but  I  could  see,  for  the  moon  fell 
full  on  both  of  'em.  First,  I  thought  I'd  give  a  whoop 
and  scare  'em;  then  concluded  to  let  'em  alone,  and  tip 
toed  away  without  seeing  Mark's  grandmother  at  all. 
That  was  Tuesday,  and  the  next  day  Miss  Helen  took 
the  noon  train  for  New  York.  Had  malary,  she  said,  and 
must  see  her  doctor.  That  night  Mark  went  to  New  York 
on  some  business  for  Mr.  Taylor.  He  didn't  come  back 
the  next  day,  nor  she  neither;  nor  the  next  day,  nor  she 
neither,  and  this  morning  there  came  a  letter  from  her, 
sayin'  she  was  married  to  Mark  Thursday,  and  was  goin' 
to  Chicago  last  night,  and  Mark  had  brought  her  the  dia 
monds.  That's  why  Miss  Tracy  screeched  so  and  went 
into  fits.  Half  the  town  know  it  now,  and  are  talkin'  about 
it.  A  lot  have  been  in  the  office  askin'  me  questions,  but 
Miss  Taylor  told  me  to  shet  up,  and  I  shet  and  said  I 
didn't  know  nothin',  but  I've  told  you  because  you  made 
me,  and  you'd  hear  it  when  you  got  to  the  hotel.  You 
are  not  going  to  faint?"  he  exclaimed,  as  Craig  leaned 
forward  with  his  elbows  on  his  knees  and  his  hands  on 
his  face. 

"No,  no,"  and  Craig  straightened  up,  but  his  pallid  face 
frightened  Jeff,  who  continued:  "You  are  awful  sick, 
and  you  look  bad.  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?" 

"Nothing,"  Craig  answered;   then   asked   suddenly: 


WHAT   FOLLOWED.  199 

"Has  any  one  mentioned  w*e  in  connection  with  this 
affair?" 

"Why,  no.  Not  in  particular,"  Jeff  replied.  "Some 
who  come  into  the  office  said :  "I  thought  by  the  looks  oir 
things  'twas  the  Boston  chap,  and  Sarah  said :  'I  guess 
the  one  who  was  with  her  last  had  the  inside  track.' 
That's  before  Miss  Taylor  told  me  to  shet  up.  I  said  I 
knew  all  the  time  it  was  Mark." 

"Thank  you,  Jeff.  There's  a  newspaper  in  my  coat 
pocket.  Fan  me  with  it,  please.  I  am  very  warm,"  Craig 
said,  taking  off  his  hat  and  wiping  the  drops  of  sweat  from 
his  forehead. 

Jeff  took  the  paper  and  fanned  him,  while  a  suspicion 
of  something  like  the  truth  began  to  dawn  upon  him. 
Then,  with  the  bluntness  which  characterized  him,  he 
asked  :  "Did  you  care  for  her,  and  is  that  what  ails  you  ?" 

Twilight  was  coming  on,  but  Craig  could  see  Jeff's 
sympathizing  face,  and,  with  a  sudden  impulse,  he  re 
plied  :  "She  had  promised  to  be  my  wife." 

Jeff  gave  a  prolonged  whistle  and  dropped  the  paper 
with  which  he  was  fanning  Craig.  Then,  feeling  that  he 
must  give  some  vent  to  his  surprise,  he  had  recourse  to 
his  usual  custom,  and  turned  three  very  rapid  somersaults 
and  landed  on  his  feet  in  front  of  Craig.  Jeff's  mind  had 
worked  almost  as  fast  as  his  body,  and,  resuming  the 
newspaper  and  fanning  Craig  furiously,  he  said,  "I  knew 
Mark  liked  her,  and  I  liked  Mark  and  used  to  tell  him 
where  she  was  waitin'  for  him  in  corners  and  places  sly 
like  so  folks  wouldn't  see  her.  I  thought  you  cared  for 
her  some,  but  didn't  s'pose  you  was  in  so  deep,  and  I'm 
sorry  I've  told  you  about  her,  but  you  said  tell  every 
thing." 

What  Jeff  had  told  Craig,  although  heroic  treatment, 
was  having  its  effect.  Still  he  was  very  sore  with  the 


200  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

suddenness  of  the  blow,  and  it  would  take  him  a  little 
time  to  rally.  He  was  humiliated,  too,  but  there  was 
comfort  in  thinking  that  possibly  no  one  knew  of  his  en 
gagement  except  Mrs.  Tracy.  'I  was  foolish  to  tell  Jeff, 
although  I  believe  I  can  trust  him,"  he  thought. 

"Jeff,"  he  began,  "if  no  one  knows  what  I  have  told 
you,  will  you  keep  it  to  yourself?" 

"You  bet !"  Jeff  answered,  feeling  that  he  was  of  more 
importance  now  that  he  had  a  secret  in  common  with 
Craig  than  he  did  when  he  was  made  clerk  pro  tern. 

It  was  time  the  clerk  was  getting  home,  if  he  would 
attend  to  his  business,  and  he  said  to  Craig  at  last :  "Do 
you  think  you  can  go  on  now  ?  Mr.  Taylor  may  be  want 
ing  me." 

"Yes,  I  am  better,"  Craig  answered. 

He  tried  to  walk  steadily,  but  his  knees  shook  under 
him,  and  it  seemed  as  if  his  feet  were  each  weighing  a 
ton.  Once  in  the  steepest  part  of  the  hill  he  felt  Jeff  put 
his  arm  across  his  back  to  help  him  up  the  incline.  The 
action  touched  him  deeply,  and  there  was  a  mist  in  his 
eyes  as  he  said,  "Thank  you,  Jeff;  but  I  think  I  can  walk 
alone.  I  am  feeling  better  and  shall  be  all  right  when  I 
reach  the  hotel." 

With  a  great  effort  he  tried  to  seem  natural  when  he 
entered  the  house  and  was  greeted  by  Uncle  Zach,  who 
plunged  at  once  into  the  heart  of  his  trouble,  bewailing 
his  disappointment  in  Mark  and  wondering  where  he 
could  find  one  to  fill  his  place.  Craig  consoled  him  as  well 
as  he  could  and  kept  himself  in  the  shade,  both  in  the 
office  and  at  the  supper  table,  where  he  ate  very  little  and 
shrank  from  the  eyes  which  he  fancied  were  directed 
towards  him  by  his  fellow  boarders.  He  had  .still  a  hard 
task  before  him, — that  of  meeting  Mrs.  Tracy,  who,  the 
moment  she  heard  he  had  come,  sent  for  him.  Her  hys- 


WHAT    FOLLOWED.  2OI 

terics  had  subsided,  but,  when  she  saw  Craig,  she  came 
near  giving  way  again.  Controlling  herself  with  an  effort, 
she  gave  him  her  hand  and  said:  "I  know  your  pain  is 
as  great,  or  greater,  than  mine,  and  I  am  sorry  for  you. 
I  assure  you  I  had  no  suspicion.  It  came  like  a  thunder 
bolt,  and  to  think  my  daughter  should  take  up  with  a  hotel 
clerk,  whose  great  grand-mother  was  hung,  is  terrible !" 

She  was  getting  excited  and  began  a  tirade  against 
Mr.  Hilton,  while  Craig  put  in  now  and  then  a  word  in 
his  defense,  saying  he  hoped  the  young  people  would 
be  happy.  He  was  not  as  crushed  as  Mrs.  Tracy  had  ex 
pected  him  to  be,  and  she  grew  a  little  cool  towards  him 
at  the  last  and  told  him  she  should  leave  on  Monday  for 
New  York  and  seclude  herself  from  the  society  she  would 
be  ashamed  to  meet  after  Helen's  disgraceful  conduct. 

"Here  is  a  letter  you  sent  to  Helen  on  Thursday,"  she 
said.  "Mr.  Taylor  brought  it  to  me  this  afternoon.  It 
is,  of  course,  no  use  to  her  now.  I  shall  not  forward  it. 
Take  it  and  burn  it,  if  you  like." 

Craig  took  the  letter,  and,  bidding  her  good  night, 
went  to  his  room,  where  he  found  on  his  dressing  bureau 
another  letter  which  had  come  for  him  that  moii.':ig  from 
New  York,  and  was  from  Helen.  Jeff  had  brought  it 
up  while  he  was  with  Mrs.  Tracy,  and  was  hovering  near 
the  door  to  speak  to  him. 

"Do  you  want  anything?"  he  asked.  "A  hot  flat  iron 
for  your  feet,  perhaps  ?  I  can  bring  you  one,  if  you  do." 

Jeff  knew  that  Mrs.  Tracy  had  required  water  bags  and 
flat  irons,  and  thought  it  possible  Craig  might  like  some 
thing  of  the  kind.  Craig  declined  the  offer,  and  Jeff  went 
away,  leaving  him  alone  with  his  trouble  and  Helen's 
letter.  On  opening  the  envelope  a  second  letter  fell  out, 
soiled  and  crumpled,  with  tear  stains  upon  it,  but  with 
the  seal  unbroken.  It  was  the  first  he  had  sent  to  her, 


202  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

and  she  had  returned  it  unread.  She  had  written  rather 
incoherently,  as  if  greatly  excited.  She  did  not  expect 
him  to  forgive  her,  she  said,  and  she  could  not  help  doing 
what  she  had  done.  When  Craig  asked  her  to  be  his  wife 
she  had  no  thought  of  deceiving  him,  but  she  did  not  then 
know  how  much  she  loved  Mr.  Hilton,  or  that  he  cared  for 
her  as  he  did. 

"I  am  better  suited  to  him  than  to  you,"  she  wrote. 
"He  knows  me,  and  you  do  not.  I  return  your  letter  un 
read.  I  found  it  at  the  office  when  I  started  for  the  walk 
with  Mark,  which  resulted  in  my  throwing  you  over.  I 
could  not  read  it  after  that.  Don't  think  that  what  I 
have  done  has  not  cost  me  pain,  for  it  has,  but  I  am  very 
happy  with  Mark,  who  knows  all  my  faults.  I  have  noth 
ing  to  conceal  from  him,  while  with  you  I  should  have 
been  always  trying  to  seem  what  I  was  not  and  to  like 
what  I  hated,  and  you  would  have  found  me  out  and  been 
disappointed  and  shocked.  It  is  better  as  it  is, — a  great 
deal  better,  and  so  you  will  think  when  the  first  wrench 
is  over." 

"I  believe  she  is  right,  but  it  is  very  hard  now,"  Craig 
said,  tearing  her  letter  in  bits  as  he  did  the  other  and  burn 
ing  them  in  the  stove  in  his  room. 

How  happy  he  had  been  writing  to  her, —  how  happy 
all  the  week  with  thoughts  of  the  girl  who  had  deceived 
him  so  cruelly. 

"But  I  will  not  let  it  wreck  my  life,"  he  said.  "She  is 
not  worth  it." 

Laying  his  head  upon  the  table,  he  recalled  the  past 
as  connected  with  Helen, — all  Jeff  had  told  him  of  her, 
all  she  had  said  herself,  and  his  mother's  opinion,  which 
weighed  more  now  than  it  did  a  week  ago.  He  was  be 
ginning  to  see  things  more  clearly  than  when  the  glam 
our  of  love  was  over  him,  and  he  writhed  for  a  time  in 


WHAT  FOLLOWED.  203 

bitter  pain  for  his  loss,  not  only  of  Helen,  but  for  his  loss 
of  faith  in  her.  Then  he  began  to  wonder  why  he  felt  so 
faint.  The  window  was  open,  and  it  was  not  so  very 
warm,  but  something  oppressed  him  like  a  sweet,  power 
ful  odor.  Suddenly  he  remembered  the  roses.  The  lid 
had  come  off  as  Jeff  put  the  box  on  the  table,  and  the 
room  was  full  of  the  perfume. 

"What  shall  I  do  with  them?"  he  said,  taking  them  in 
his  hand  and  thinking  how  much  they  were  like  Helen, 
beautiful  but  frail,  for  they  were  already  beginning  to 
droop.  I  can't  keep  them  in  my  room,  and  I  can't  throw 
them  from  the  window  to  be  found  and  commented  upon. 
I'll  burn  them,  as  I  have  the  letters." 

Drawing  his  chair  to  the  stove,  he  kindled  a  fire  with 
some  light  wood  there  was  in  a  box,  and,  when  it  was  well 
started,  he  burned  the  roses  one  by  one,  feeling  a  kind 
of  satisfaction  as  he  saw  them  blacken  and  turn  to  ashes. 
There  was  still  the  little  white  and  gold  book  of  poems, 
and  over  this  he  hesitated.  He  was  so  fond  of  Browning 
that  it  seeemed  sacrilege  to  burn  up  Sordello  and  Pauline. 
They  were  intimately  connected  with  Helen,  who  had 
professed  to  like  them  so  much.  But  her  liking  was  all 
pretence,  and  leaf  after  leaf  went  into  the  stove,  until  the 
whole  was  consumed.  There  was  nothing  now  but  the 
rings,  and  these  he  would  return.  With  the  burning  of 
the  roses  and  book,  Craig  felt  a  good  deal  better,  and, 
quite  to  his  surprise,  slept  so  soundly  that  he  did  not 
waken  until  Jeff  knocked  twice  on  his  door  and  told  him 
it  was  after  eight  o'clock. 


204  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

CHAPTER    XXIII. 

THE  CLOSE  OF  THE  SEASON. 

EARLY  on  Monday  morning  Mrs.  Tracy  began  her 
preparations  for  leaving  the  Prospect  House.  Helen's 
wardrobe  was  to  be  packed  as  well  as  her  own,  and,  al 
though  Celine  did  her  best,  it  was  impossible  to  get  off  on 
the  noon  train. 

'"Pears  to  me  I'd  wait  till  I  was  feelin'  better.  You 
look  pretty  white  and  pimpin',"  Uncle  Zach  said  to  her. 

Mrs.  Tracy  answered  curtly  that  nothing  could  induce 
her  to  stay  another  day  in  Ridgefield,  where  she  had  suf 
fered  so  much.  She  wished  she  had  never  come  there, 
she  said,  and  conducted  herself  as  if  somebody  in  the 
house  \v  as  to  blame  for  her  trouble.  Just  who  it  was  she 
didn't  know,  but  finally  decided  that  it  was  Craig!  If 
he  had  been  more  demonstrative  it  would  never  have  hap 
pened,  and  she  believed  he  did  not  care  very  much  now 
that  it  had  happened.  It  irritated  her  to  see  him  appear  so 
natural  when  he  came  to  call  upon  her  after  his  breakfast 
was  over.  There  was  a  tired,  heavy  look  in  his  eyes,  and 
his  face  was  pale,  but  otherwise  he  was  the  same  dignified, 
faultlessly  attired  young  man,  speaking  in  his  usual  man 
ner,  and  even  laughing  at  something  Jeff  said  when  he 
brought  one  of  her  trunks  into  the  room.  If  he  had 
seemed  downcast  and  sorry,  and  his  cuffs  and  collar  and 
necktie  and  dress  generally  had  shown  some  neglect,  and 
he  had  spoken  low  and  not  laughed,  she  would  have  liked 
it  better.  She  did  not  guess  the  effort  he  was  making 
in  order  that  no  one  should  suspect  how  deeply  he  had 
been  wounded.  He  was  very  polite  to  her,  and  when  she 
took  the  evening  train  for  New  York  h.e  went  with  her 


THE   CLOSE   OF  THE   SEASON.  2O$ 

to  the  station,  and  attended  to  her  wants  as  carefully  as 
if  she  had  really  been  his  mother-in-law  in  prospect. 

"Did  you  read  Helen's  letter?"  she  asked,  as  they  were 
waiting  for  the  train. 

"Yes,"  he  replied ;  "I  read  it  and  burned  it." 

"Shall  you  answer  it?"  was  her  next  question,  put  at 
random,  as  she  wished  to  draw  some  expression  from 
him. 

"Certainly  not.  Why  should  I  ?  That  page  in  both  our 
lives  is  turned,"  he  said,  while  she  looked  curiously  at 
him. 

"He  will  get  over  it  easily,"  she  thought,  and  she  was 
rather  formal  and  stiff  when  she  bade  him  good-bye  and 
took  the  car  which  was  to  carry  her  to  the  close  seclusion 
she  contemplated,  where  none  of  her  dear  friends  could 
witness  her  humiliation,  or  inquire  for  her  daughter. 

For  a  few  moments  Craig  stood  watching  the  train, 
and  when  it  finally  disappeared  in  the  darkness  he  was 
conscious  of  being  glad  that  Mrs.  Tracy  was  gone.  The 
burden  was  beginning  to  lighten,  although  there  was  still 
a  feeling  as  if  he  were  stunned  and  that  what  had  made 
his  future  seem  bright  had  been  swept  from  under  him. 

"Nobody  shall  know  it,  if  Jeff  keeps  his  counsel,  and  I 
think  he  will,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  went  back  to  the 
hotel. 

Contrary  to  his  usual  custom,  he  staid  for  a  time  in  the 
office  where  Jeff  was  still  head  clerk,  doing  his  duty  well 
for  a  boy,  and  skillfully  parrying  remarks  and  questions 
put  to  him  concerning  the  elopement,  as  it  was  called. 
For  a  time  Craig  sat  pretending  to  read  a  paper,  but  not 
losing  a  word  of  what  was  said.  He  had  no  intimates  in 
town.  The  young  men  thought  him  proud  and  cold  and 
had  made  no  advances,  with  but  one  exception.  A  young 
M.  D,  had  been  called  by  Mrs.  Mason  to  see  him  when  he 


206  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

first  came,  and  had  prescribed  for  him  occasionally  since. 
He  had  also  driven  with  him  once  after  Dido,  and  now, 
proud  of  his  acquaintance  and  anxious  to  show  his  in 
timacy,  he  said  to  Craig:  "By  the  way,  Mason,  how  is 
it?  I  thought  one  time  you  were  going  to  carry  off  the 
heiress  ?" 

"You  see  you  were  mistaken,"  Craig  answered  quietly, 
without  looking  up  from  his  paper,  while  Jeff  chimed  in : 
"Pho !  I  guess  you  wouldn't  have  thought  so  if  you'd  seen 
all  I  did.  Nobody  had  the  ghost  of  a  chance  but  Mr. 
Hilton." 

Craig  blessed  the  boy  in  his  heart  for  having  helped  him 
over  a  rough  place,  and  after  sitting  a  few  minutes  longer, 
bade  a  courteous  good  night  to  the  men  in  the  office  and 
went  to  liis  room. 

"Proud  as  Lucifer  and  stiff  as  a  ram-rod.  I  don't  blame 
any  girl  for  preferring  Hilton  to  him,"  some  one  re 
marked,  and  there  the  conversation  dropped  so  far  as 
Craig  was  concerned,  but  the  gossip  did  not  at  once  sub 
side  in  town. 

There  was  a  half  column  account  of  the  marriage  in 
the  Ridgefield  Weekly  on  Wednesday,  and  another  in  the 
Boston  Herald.  The  bride's  beauty  and  wealth  and  posi 
tion  were  dwelt  upon  at  length,  and  Mark  was  pro 
nounced  on  the  whole  a  good  fellow,  eligible  for  any  one 
except  for  his  lack  of  fortune.  Craig  read  every  word 
and  found  himself  wondering  if  it  was  the  girl  he  had 
hoped  to  marry  whose  name  was  being  bandied  about. 
He  staid  in  Ridgefield  two  weeks  and  drove  Dido  nearly 
every  day  over  the  same  roads  he  had  been  with  Helen, 
and  up  and  down  the  hill  where  he  had  asked  her  to  be 
his  wife,  and  where  Dido  usually  tried  to  run  from  some 
imaginary  baby  cart.  Sometimes  Jeff  was  with  him; 
sometimes  Uncle  Zach,  but  oftener  he  went  alone,  think- 


THE   CLOSE   OF  THE   SEASON.  2O? 

ing  over  the  past,  and  finding  at  last  that  he  could  think 
of  it  without  a  pang  such  as  had  hurt  him  at  first.  He 
had  loved  Helen  Tracy  and  believed  that  she  loved  him, 
and  was  a  true,  .womanly  woman.  He  had  found  his  mis 
take.  She  did  not  love  him.  She  was  false  in  every  par 
ticular;  her  whole  life  was  a  lie,  and  he  would  blot  her 
from  his  heart. 

In  this  state  of  mind  he  went  home  to  his  mother  some 
time  in  October,  and  the  season  for  city  boarders  at  the 
Prospect  House  was  over.  The  best  china  and  linen  were 
packed  away.  The  silver  forks  and  spoons  were  wrapped 
in  the  old  shawl  and  hidden  on  the  top  shelf  in  Mrs.  Tay- 
lar's  closet.  The  rooms  in  the  west  wing  were  scrubbed 
and  aired  and  fumigated,  and  then  shut  up  for  the  win 
ter,  and  life  at  the  Prospect  House  went  on  as  usual,  ex 
cept  in  the  office,  where  Jeff  still  was  clerk,  and  where 
Uncle  Zach  missed  Mark  more  and  more  every  day. 

"I  wonder  that  he  don't  write.  I'm  owin'  him  some 
wages  and  I  want  to  hear  from  the  boy,"  he  said. 

At  last  there  came  a  letter,  and,  when  Uncle  Zacheus 
read  it,  he  wished  it  had  never  come.  A  portion  of  it  was 
as  follows : 

"I  was  sorry  to  take  French  leave,  as  I  did,  but  there 
was  no  alternative.  Mrs.  Tracy  would  never  have  given 
her  consent,  and  we  had  to  marry  without  it.  Nor  have 
we  repented  yet,  and  are  as  happy  as  two  young  people 
madly  in  love  can  be.  I  have  some  things  in  my  room 
which  I'd  like  you  to  send  to  the  Sherman  House,  Chi 
cago,  where  we  are  boarding  at  present,  but  we  expect 
soon  to  go  to  housekeeping  on  Michigan  Avenue. 

"And  now  I  come  to  the  real  object  of  my  letter.  I 
want  Jeff.  I  suppose  I  can  claim  him  lawfully,  but  I'll 
leave  the  decision  to  the  boy  himself.  If  you  wish  to  keep 


208  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

him  let  him  take  his  choice  between  you  and  me, — Ridge- 
field  and  Chicago.  If  he  decides  for  me,  send  him  on  and 
pay  the  expense  out  of  what  you  owe  me.  The  rest  you 
are  to  keep.  I  have  no  use  for  it. 

"With  kindest  regards  to  yourself  and  Mrs.  Taylor, 
in  which  my  wife  joins, 

"Yours  most  sincerely, 

"MARK  HILTON." 

"Dot,"  Uncle  Zach  called  in  a  shaky  voice,  when  he 
finished  reading  the  letter;  "Mark  wants  Jeff;  read  what 
he  says." 

She  read  it  twice,  and  then  sat  very  still,  with  her  hands 
clasped  hard  on  the  arms  of  her  chair.  With  all  his  faults 
she  liked  the  boy,  who  of  late  had  seemed  so  much  im 
proved  and  been  so  useful  to  them.  Her  liking  was  slight 
compared  to  that  of  her  husband,  whose  face  looked 
pinched  and  grey  as  they  discussed  the  matter. 

"I  s'pose  we  must  let  him  choose,"  Uncle  Zach  said,  at 
last,  and,  calling  Jeff  to  him,  he  told  him  what  Mark  had 
written. 

Jeff's  eyes  were  like  saucers  as  he  listened.  He  was 
greatly  attached  to  Mark,  and  any  dislike  he  had  for 
Helen  for  the  trick  she  had  served  Craig  was  overbal 
anced  by  Chicago.  To  live  in  a  big  city  would  be  delight 
ful. 

"I  s'pose  I'll  have  to  go,  shan't  I?"  he  asked. 

"Oh,  Jeff,  and  leave  us  alone !"  Uncle  Zach  said,  with 
so  much  genuine  sorrow  in  his  voice  that  Jeff  began  to 
waver. 

"I'd  like  to  stay  here  first  rate,"  he  said,  "and  I'd  like 
Chicago,  too.  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,  you  and  I.  We'll 
toss  up  a  cent  five  times.  I  first,  you  second,  and  so  on. 


THE  CLOSE  OF  THE   SEASON.  209 

If  heads  win,  I  go  to  Chicago ;  if  tails  win,  I  stay  here. 
Do  you  agree  ?" 

He  drew  a  big,  old-fashioned  penny  from  his  pocket  and 
gave  it  a  smart  twirl  with  his  thumb  and  second  finger. 

"Heads !"  he  said ;  "but  this  don't  count.  We  haven't 
begun  yet.  Do  you  agree?" 

"I  hain't  tossed  a  cent  since  I  was  a  boy."  Uncle  Zach 
replied. 

"Let  me  show  you,"  Jeff  said,  fixing  the  copper  in  place 
on  Uncle  Zach's  fingers.  "You  hold  it  so;  give  it  a  snap, 
so ;  that's  right ;  off  she  goes ;  heads  again.  But  we 
hain't  commenced.  You  are  not  quite  up  to  the  trick  yet, 
and  I  want  it  fair." 

Three  or  four  more  trials  were  made  and  then  the  game 
began  which  was  to  decide  Jeff's  fate  in  more  ways  than 
one.  Mrs.  Taylor  was  as  much  interested  as  either  her 
husband  or  Jeff  and  looked  on  breathlessly  at  the  fall  of 
the  penny  from  Jeff's  hand. 

"Heads !"  he  said,  as  he  picked  it  up  and  handed  it  to 
Mr.  Taylor,  who  threw  it  up  with  some  trepidation  and 
anxiety. 

"Tails !"  Jeff  cried,  examining  the  coin.  "Even  so  far. 
Here  goes  the  third  toss.  Heads  again !  Your  turn  now. 
Let  me  fix  it  for  you,"  he  continued,  adjusting  the  coin 
to  Mr.  Taylor's  hand,  which  shook  so  he  could  scarcely 
hold  it.  "Let  'er  slide !"  he  said,  and  the  penny  went 
rattling  to  the  floor  at  some  distance  from  them  both. 

Jeff  was  there  as  soon  as  the  penny.  "Tails !  we  are 
even  still.  The  next  will  decide."  he  exclaimed,  pushing 
back  his  hair  and  straightening  himself  for  the  final 
throw. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor  scarcely  moved,  and  Jeff  was 
greatly  excited  as  if  he  felt  that  more  than  Chicago  was 
trembling  in  the  scale. 


2IO  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

"Git !"  he  said,  and  the  copper  went  spinning  in  the  air 
and  then  rolled  to  Mrs.  Taylor's  feet.  "Heads !  Hurrah ! 
Chicago  has  won !"  was  Jeff's  joyful  cry  as  he  picked  up 
the  coin  and  showed  it  to  Mr.  Taylor,  who  said,  "Yes,  it's 
heads  plain  enough.  Queer  you  should  throw  that  all 
the  time,  and  I  tails.  Accordin'  to  the  bargain  I  s'pose 
you'll  go." 

The  sight  of  Mr.  Taylor's  face  clouded  Jeff's  a  little, 
and  he  offered  to  throw  again.  But  Mr.  Taylor  said, 
"No.  You  belong  to  Mark.  He  took  you  from  the  street. 
You  are  in  a  way  connected  with  him  far  back.  You  must 
go." 

"When  you  are  real  old  I'll  come  and  take  care  of  you," 
Jeff  said  by  way  of  comfort,  and  then  went  hurrying  to 
the  kitchen  to  tell  of  his  good  luck. 

"What  must  be  done  may  as  well  be  done  at  once,"  was 
Mrs.  Taylor's  theory,  and  in  less  than  a  week  the  Chicago 
express  from  Boston  carried  with  it  a  boy  whose  eyes 
were  full  of  tears  and  whose  face  was  close  to  the  win 
dow  as  long  as  a  spire  or  treetop  of  Ridgefield  was  in 
sight. 

Jeff  was  gone;  a  new  clerk  took  his  place,  and  the 
house  seemed  lonelier  than  ever  as  the  dark  November 
days  came  on,  and  they  missed  the  active  boy  every 
where.  Mark  had  telegraphed  his  safe  arrival  and  three 
weeks  later  there  came  a  short  letter  from  him. 

"Dear  and  reverend  friends,"  it  began.  "I  am  well. 
How  are  you  yourselves  ?  How  is  Sarah  and  Martha  and 
Sam,  and  the  rest  of  the  folks  ?  My  eye !  isn't  Chicago  a 
buster!  Beats  Boston  all  holler,  and  ain't  our  house  on 
Michigan  avenue  a  grand  one !  You  never  seen  such  fur 
niture  in  all  your  life,  nor  nobody  else.  We  moved  in 
a  week  ago,  and  we've  got  seven  servants  to  wait  on  us 
three,  for  I  ain't  a  servant.  I  guess  Mr.  and  Miss  Hilton 


THE  CLOSE  OF  THE   SEASON.  211 

disagreed  about  me  a  little,  for  I  overheard  'em  talkin' 
before  we  left  the  Sherman  House.  She  wanted  to  dress 
me  up  in  livery  with  brass  buttons.  What  for  I  don't 
know.  He  said  I  was  to  go  to  school  in  the  same  voice 
he  used  to  say  to  me,  'Jeff,  behave  yourself.'  So  I'm 
goin',  and  the  servants  call  me  Master  Jefferson.  Ain't 
that  funny  ? 

"I  hain't  forgot  you,  and  once  in  a  while  I  feel  home 
sick  for  the  old  place  and  snivel  a  little.  I  can't  turn 
summersets  here  and  I  can't  do  a  lot  of  things,  but 
couldn't  I  pick  a  pile  of  pockets  on  the  street.  I  shan't 
though.  I  promised  Miss  Alice  I  wouldn't,  and  I  won't. 
When  you  hear  from  her  give  her  my  best  respects  and 
the  same  to  yourselves. 

"Yours  to  command, 

"Jefferson  Wilkes. 

"Postscript.  I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  Miss  Hilton  is 
handsome  as  ever  and  dresses  right  up  to  the  handle. 
Went  to  the  opera  the  other  night  with  nothin'  on  her 
neck  and  arms  but  a  little  puff  at  the  shoulder.  We  were 
in  a  box  and  everybody  looked  at  us.  As  we  were  comin' 
out  I  heard  somebody  say  'That  beautiful  woman  with 
the  big  diamonds  is  Miss  Hilton,  who  ran  away  with  a — 
I  couldn't  understand  what,  but  thought  they  said  'bar 
ber.'  I  told  Miss  Hilton,  and  she  looked  mad  as  fury, 
and  Mr.  Hilton, — I  have  to  call  him  that  now, — said 
'Never  repeat  anything  of  that  kind,  and  whatever  you 
know  keep  to  yourself.'  He  looked  mad,  too.  Strange, 
how  things  get  from  Ridgefield  to  Chicago,  but  they  do. 
The  servants  have  heard  something  about  the  runaway 
and  things  and  have  pumped  me,  but  I'm  tighter  than  a 
drum.  Mr.  and  Miss  Hilton  are  very  happy  and  lovin' 
like  right  before  me.  How  are  Paul  and  Virginny?  You 


2 1 2  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

or'  to  see  the  horses  we  drive,  and  Miss  Hilton's  coopay. 
All  lined  with  satin.    Good-bye." 

This  glimpse  of  the  domestic  life  of  Mark  and  Helen 
was  all  that  was  known  at  the  Prospect  House  for  a 
long  time,  and  as  the  winter  wore  away,  the  elopement, 
if  it  could  be  called  that,  ceased  to  be  talked  about  as 
other  interests  occupied  the  public  mind. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

CRAIG'S  VISIT. 

MARCH  was  nearly  gone  when  Craig  Mason  arrived 
at  the  Prospect  House  unexpectedly  on  the  noon  train, 
and  Mrs.  Taylor  was  greatly  upset  and  flurried  in  her 
wish  to  do  him  honor.  Her  silver  forks  and  best  china 
were  brought  out  and  Uncle  Zach  offered  him  "Miss 
Tracy's  saloon"  to  sit  in,  if  he  wanted  it.  Craig  declined 
the  saloon,  saying  he  was  only  going  to  spend  the  night 
and  preferred  to  sit  with  his  host  and  hostess,  if  they 
would  allow  it.  He  was  looking  in  excellent  health,  and 
told  them  he  weighed  twenty  pounds  more  than  when 
he  came  to  Ridgefield  in  the  summer.  He  talked  freely 
of  Mark  and  Helen,  and  laughed  heartily  over  Jeff's  novel 
way  of  deciding  between  Chicago  and  Ridgefield. 

"There  is  a  good  deal  in  that  boy  to  be  made  or 
marred,  and  I  am  curious  to  know  which  it  will  be." 

"Made,  I  think,  for  he  had  good  envyrimen'  here," 
Uncle  Zach  replied,  and  then  branched  off  into  hereditary 
as  exemplified  by  Mark,  if  he  did  run  off  with  an  heiress. 
"None  of  it  there,  I  tell  you.  No,  sir,"  he  said.  "A  pretty 
woman  will  make  a  man  do  a  lot  of  things.  Adam  had 


CRAIG'S  VISIT.  213 

no  idea  of  eatin'  that  apple  till  Eve  tempted  him.  He 
hadn't  any  hereditary.  No  more  has  Mark.  No,  sir! 
That  gal  tetered  up  to  him  and  purred  round  him  like 
a  kitten.  I  can  remember  now  findin'  her  time  and  agin 
in  the  office  when  she'd  no  call  to  be  there,  and  she  was 
so  all  fired  handsome  he  couldn't  help  it.  Why,  I  liked 
her  myself.  Yes,  sir,  I  did !" 

He  said  the  last  rather  low,  with  a  furtive  look  at  Dot, 
who  was  picking  up  the  ball  of  yarn  from  which  she 
was  knitting  and  with  which  her  kitten  had  been  playing. 
Uncle  Zach  had  never  told  her,  nor  any  one,  of  the  kiss 
Helen  had  given  him  the  day  she  went  away.  But  he 
had  not  forgotten  it,  and  he  stroked  the  place  on  his 
hand  as  he  wandered  on  about  hereditary  and  envyrimen', 
till  Craig  was  tired,  and  seizing  the  opportunity  of  a 
pause,  said  abruptly,  "Can  you  tell  me  where  Miss  Alice 
Tracy  lives.  I  know  it  is  among  the  mountains,  but  have 
forgotten  the  place.  I  am  going  to  Albany,  and  thought 

a ,  I  told  mother,  perhaps  I'd  call.  Do  you  remember 

the  town  ?" 

"Why,  yes, — Rocky  Point,"  Uncle  Zach  replied,  with 
out  the  slightest  suspicion.  "Coin'  to  call  on  her,  are 
you?  Wall,  I'm  glad  on't.  A  nice  little  girl, — not  so 
handsome  as  t'other  one,  but  mighty  pretty,  with  takin' 
ways.  She's  keepin'  school  up  there,  and  Christmas  she 
sent  Dot  and  me  a  drawin'  made  by  herself  of  the  north 
piazza.  Did  you  know  she  could  draw?" 

Craig  did  not,  and  Uncle  Zach  continued :  "Wall,  she 
can, — nateral,  too,  as  life.  It's  a  picter  of  that  afternoon 
when  we  sot  on  the  piazza  and  you  read  from  that  man 
Brown.  We  are  all  there,  some  plainer  than  others,  and 
I'll  be  dumbed  if  she  didn't  draw  me  a  noddin',  as  Dot 
says  I  was,  but  I'd  know  myself  in  the  dark,  though  I 
didn't  know  I  was  quite  so  dumpy.  I'll  get  it  and  show 


214  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

it  to  you.  We've  had  it  framed  and  keep  it  hung  up  with 
Dot's  ancestors  and  the  Boston  tea-party;  seems  appro 
priate  seein'  'twas  a  kind  of  party  we  was  havin'.  Here 
'tis." 

He  handed  Craig  a  sketch  of  a  group  on  the  north 
piazza,  each  one  of  which  could  be  recognized.  There 
was  Helen  gracefully  reclining  in  the  hammock,  with  her 
arm  and  hand  hanging  down  as  Craig  remembered  it, — 
Mark,  with  a  quizzical  expression  on  his  face,  standing 
by  the  corner, — Uncle  Zach  unmistakably  nodding  in 
his  chair,  and  next  to  him,  himself,  with  a  collar  which 
nearly  cut  his  ears  and  so  interested  in  the  book  he  was 
reading  that  his  interest  showed  on  his  face,  and  he  could 
almost  hear  the  sentence  at  which  he  stopped  to  find 
Helen  asleep.  Alice  was  the  least  conspicuous  of  the 
group.  She  was  sitting  on  the  steps  with  folded  hands 
and  looking  off  under  the  trees  where  there  was  a  faint 
outline  of  a  boy  balancing  himself  on  his  head.  Craig 
looked  at  her  the  longest,  knowing  she  had  not  done 
herself  justice,  but  seeing  distinctly  in  his  mind's  eye  the 
graceful  figure,  the  sweet  face,  the  clearly  cut  features 
and  blue  eyes,  which,  apart  from  Helen's  more  brilliant 
beauty,  would  be  called  very  attractive. 

"Good,  ain't  it?  I  wouldn't  take  a  dollar  for  it  without 
the  frame,"  Uncle  Zacheus  said. 

Craig  made  no  reply,  but  thought  he  wouldn't  take 
many  dollars  for  it,  if  it  were  his.  Giving  it  back  to  Mr. 
Taylor  he  asked  if  he  knew  what  trains  stopped  at  Rocky 
Point,  and  the  name  of  Alice's  uncle.  Uncle  Zach  said 
only  the  accommodations  stopped  there,  and  he  didn't 
know  the  name  of  the  uncle. 

"Easy  to  find,  though, — or  she  is,  as  she's  keepin' 
school.  Ask  for  the  schoolmarm,  but  what  are  you  goin' 
off  tomorrer  for?  Stay,  and  if  the  roads  ain't  too  bad, 


CRAIG'S  VISIT.  21$ 

we'll  have  a  spin  on  the  race  track  with  Paul  and  Vir- 
ginny.  By  the  way,  how  is  Dido?" 

"I  don't  know.    I've  sold  her,"  Craig  replied. 

"What  under  the  canopy  you  sold  Dido  for?  The 
nicest  hoss  I  ever  seen  unless  it  was  Virginny  when  she 
was  young,"  Uncle  Zacheus  exclaimed. 

Craig  could  not  explain  that  the  principal  reason  for 
selling  Dido  was  that  she  was  connected  with  a  part  of 
his  life  he  would  gladly  forget,  and  he  gave  another  rea 
son. 

"I  don't  know  as  you  know  that  once  when  I  was 
driving  her  she  was  frightened  at  a  baby  cart  and  ran 
away  with  me.  I  have  heard  that  horses  when  once 
they  have  run  are  apt  to  do  so  again,  and  I  found  it 
true  with  Dido.  She  seemed  to  be  always  looking  for 
that  cart  till  mother  was  afraid  to  ride  after  her.  So  I 
sold  her  where  I  knew  she  would  be  kindly  treated." 

The  clock  was  striking  ten,  and  Craig,  who  knew  it 
was  past  Uncle  Zach's  bed  time,  signified  his  wish  to 
retire.  He  was  given  his  old  room,  where  he  had  burned 
the  roses  and  the  white  and  gold  book,  and  as  he  recalled 
the  pain  and  humiliation  of  that  night  it  scarcely  seemed 
possible  that  he  could  be  as  happy  and  light  hearted  as 
he  was  now. 

"Thank  God,  that  dream  is  over,"  he  said,  as  he  lay 
down  to  sleep  and  dream  of  what  might  possibly  be  on 
the  morrow. 

The  next  day  he  left  the  hotel,  to  the  great  regret  of 
Uncle  Zach,  who  urged  him  to  stay  longer  and  who 
refused  any  remuneration. 

"I'd  laugh  to  see  me  take  anything.  No,  sir !  I  ain't 
so  mean  as  that.  I'm  glad  to  have  you  here.  It  does  me 
good  to  have  refined  folks  round  like  you.  Come  again. 
Give  my  regards  and  Dot's  to  Miss  Alice.  Tell  her  to 


2l6  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

come  here  next  summer.  Shan't  cost  her  a  cent.  I  don't 
s'pose  she's  got  a  great  many  to  spend.  I  liked  her  build. 
I  b'lieve  she's  a  truer  one  than  t'other  one,  though  I  liked 
her  amazingly." 

Craig  nodded  and  shook  hands  with  his  host  and 
hostess  and  was  gone. 

"It  seems  funny, — his  stoppin'  to  see  Miss  Alice," 
Uncle  Zach  said  as  he  looked  after  him.  He  never 
seemed  to  take  to  her  much  when  she  was  here.  What 
do  you  s'pose  it's  for  ?" 

He  turned  inquiringly  to  his  wife,  who,  quicker  of 
comprehension,  replied,  "I  don't  s'pose ;  I  know,  and  so 
would  you,  if  you  had  half  an  eye." 

Rather  slowly  it  dawned  upon  Uncle  Zach,  together 
with  the  fitness  of  the  arrangement.  No  two  could  be 
better  suited  to  each  other  than  Craig  and  Alice,  and  he 
gave  it  his  sanction  at  once,  with  his  characteristic, 
"Wall,  I'll  be  dumbed!  I  b'lieve  you  are  right,  and  I'm 
glad  on't." 


CHAPTER    XXV. 

IN  THE  RED  SCHOOL  HOUSE. 

CRAIG  was  entirely  cured  of  his  infatuation.  Jeff's  rev 
elations  had  commenced  the  cure,  and  time  and  his  own 
good  sense  had  completed  it.  A  girl  who  would  engage 
herself  to  him  one  night  and  transfer  her  vows  to  another 
the  next  was  not  a  wife  to  be  desired,  were  she  ten  times 
as  beautiful  as  Helen  Tracy.  "Fair  and  false,"  he  often 
said  to  himself  when  thinking  of  her  and  the  summer 
in  Ridgefiekl,  while  over  and  over  again  there  came  to 
him  a  thought  of  Alice,  with  whom  he  had  always  felt 


IN  THE  RED  SCHOOL  HOUSE. 

rested  and  at  his  best.  In  the  early  stage  of  his  disap 
pointments  he  had  said  to  himself,  "I  shall  never  try 
love  making  again."  But  he  had  changed  his  mind. 

Most  men  would  have  written  to  Alice  before  going 
to  see  her,  but  Craig  was  not  like  most  men,  and  some 
subtle  intuition  told  him  that  he  would  succeed.  Arrived 
at  Rocky  Point  he  had  no  difficulty  in  ascertaining  where 
Miss  Alice  Tracy  lived,  and  was  soon  knocking  at  the 
door  of  the  farm-house,  which  stood  a  little  way  from  the 
village.  It  was  opened  by  Mrs.  Wood,  Alice's  Aunt 
Mary,  who  felt  somewhat  abashed  at  the  sight  of  a 
strange  gentleman  asking  for  her  niece.  Glancing  over 
her  shoulder  at  the  clock,  she  said,  "It's  after  four.  She 
should  be  home  pretty  soon,  though  she  sometimes  stays 
to  tidy  up  and  make  copies  for  the  children.  Maybe 
you'll  find  her  there,  and  maybe  you'll  meet  her.  The 
road  is  straight  from  here  to  the  school  house.  You  can't 
miss  it." 

"Thanks,"  and  Craig  turned  to  go,  when  Mrs.  Wood 
said  to  him,  "If  you  don't  find  her  who  shall  I  say 
called?" 

"Craig  Mason,  from  Boston,"  was  the  reply,  and  Craig 
walked  rapidly  away  towards  the  village  and  the  school 
house. 

"Craig  Mason ;  that's  the  man  Helen  Tracy  jilted,  and 
now  he's  come  to  see  Alice/'  Mrs.  Wood  said  to  her 
husband,  who  had  just  come  in  from  the  barn. 

"Well,  what  is  there  to  flutter  you  so?"  the  more 
phlegmatic  Uncle  Ephraim  asked,  putting  down  the  eggs 
he  had  been  gathering  and  counting  them  one  by  one. 

"I  ain't  in  a  flutter,"  she  replied,  "but  if  Alice  brings 
him  home  to  supper,  and  she  will  of  course,  I  mean  to 
have  things  decent,  and  do  you  make  a  fire  in  the  settin' 
room  the  first  thing,  and  I'll  make  some  soda  biscuits. 


2l8  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

Lucky  I  baked  yesterday.  I've  cake  enough,  and  a  cus 
tard  pie,  and  I'll  brile  a  steak.  He  must  be  hungry  after 
travellin'  from  Boston." 

She  had  settled  the  bill  of  fare,  and  while  her  husband 
made  the  fire  in  the  sitting  room  she  proceeded  to  carry 
out  her  hospitable  plans. 

Meanwhile  Craig  was  making  his  way  along  the  street, 
meeting  several  children  with  dinner  pails  and  baskets, 
whom  he  guessed  to  be  scholars.  School  must  be  out 
and  he  hurried  on,  while  those  he  met  looked  curiously 
after  him,  wondering  who  he  was  and  wondering  still 
more  when  they  saw  him  pass  up  the  walk  to  the  school 
house.  When  Alice  received  Helen's  letter  announcing 
her  engagement  to  Craig  she  was  not  surprised,  as  she 
had  expected  it.  The  tone  of  the  letter  struck  her  un 
pleasantly,  but  it  was  like  Helen  to  wnte  in  that  vein 
and  she  thought  there  might  be  more  heart  in  the  matter 
than  appeared  on  the  surface.  The  proposition  that  she 
should  accompany  her  cousin  to  Europe  made  her  pulse 
throb  with  delight  for  a  moment,  and  then  her  spirits 
fell.  She  knew  Helen  would  be  kind  and  considerate, 

and  Craig  too,  but ;  and  then  she  came  to  a  stand, 

and  as  many  others  have  done  yielded  finally  to  the 
inexorable  but,  and  gave  up  what  had  been  the  dream  of 
her  life.  She  had  commenced  a  letter  to  Helen,  con 
gratulating  her  on  her  engagement  and  thanking  her  for 
her  kind  offer,  which  she  must  decline. 

Before  the  letter  was  finished  she  received  a  second 
mailed  in  Chicago,  and  announcing  her  cousin's  marriage 
with  Mark  Hilton.  "I  know  you  will  be  shocked,"  Helen 
wrote.  "I  am,  myself,  when  I  think  seriously  about  it. 
I  am  not  sorry,  though,  that  I  did  it.  I  am  only  sorry 
for  the  part  where  Craig  is  concerned.  I  treated  him 
ghamefully,  but  he  will  get  over  it.  His  love  for  me  was 


IN   THE   RED   SCHOOL   HOUSE.  2 19 

not  as  deep  as  that  of  Mark,  who  took  me  knowing  what 
I  am,  while  Craig  would  have  turned  from  me  with  loath 
ing  when  he  found  that  I  detested  Browning,  which  is 
among  the  least  of  my  deceptions." 

There  was  more  in  the  same  strain,  with  protestations 
of  perfect  happiness  and  the  intention  again  expressed 
of  having  Alice  live  with  her.  From  this  proposal  Alice 
turned  as  from  the  other,  though  for  a  different  reason. 
There  was  nothing  left  her  now  but  school  teaching, 
which  she  disliked  more  than  she  cared  to  own.  "It  is 
such  drudgery  and  I  am  so  glad  when  4  o'clock  comes," 
she  often  said  and  was  saying  it  that  March  afternoon 
when  Craig  Mason  was  on  his  way  to  change  the  whole 
tenor  of  her  life.  She  had  staid  after  school  to  look  over 
some  essays  and  copy-books  and  was  preparing  to  go 
home  when  she  heard  a  step  on  the  walk.  It  was  a 
scholar  returning  for  something,  she  thought.  A  knock 
on  the  door,  however,  indicated  a  stranger,  and  hastening 
to  open  it  she  stood  face  to  face  with  Craig  Mason. 

"Oh !"  she  cried,  with  a  ring  of  joy  in  her  voice  as  she 
gave  him  both  her  hands. 

Then,  remembering  that  this  was  rather  a  forward 
greeting  she  tried  to  release  them,  but  Craig  held  them 
fast.  He  had  heard  the  joy  in  her  voice  and  seen  the 
gladness  in  her  eyes  and  felt  nearly  sure  of  his  answer 
before  the  question  was  asked.  She  had  put  on  her  blue 
hood  which  was  very  becoming  to  her  and  she  had  her 
cloak  on  her  arm  preparatory  to  going  home,  but  she 
allowed  Craig  to  lead  her  back  into  the  room  where  they 
sat  down  together  by  the  stove  before  either  spoke  a 
word. 

"Where  did  you  come  from  and  when?"  she  asked, 
and  he  replied,  "From  Boston  yesterday, — from  Ridge- 


22O  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

field  this  morning.  I  spent  the  night  at  the  Prospect 
House." 

"Oh,  Ridgefield,"  Alice  exclaimed,  clasping  her  hands 
which  she  had  withdrawn  from  Craig's.  "I  was  thinking 
of  Ridgefield  and  the  happy  summer  I  spent  there  and 
wondering  if  I  should  ever  see  it  again.  I'm  afraid  not." 

"Why  not?"  Craig  asked,  and  she  replied,  "I  don't 
know  except  that  my  life  is  here,  teaching  school.  Tell 
me  about  them, — Mr.  and  Mr.  Taylor,  I  mean.  I  know 
that  Mr.  Hilton  and  Jeff  are  gone." 

He  told  her  all  there  was  to  tell  of  Uncle  Zach  and! 
his  wife ;  of  their  kind  remembrances  of  her  and  of  the 
drawing  in  which  he  was  greatly  interested.  And  while 
he  talked  he  was  trying  to  decide  how  to  say  what  he 
had  come  to  say.  She  had  thrown  off  her  hood  and  a 
ray  of  sunlight  fell  on  her  hair  and  across  her  face,  where 
the  blushes  were  coming  and  going  as  she  talked  with  or 
listened  to  him,  occasionally  turning  her  eyes  upon  him 
and  then  letting  them  fall  as  her  woman's  instinct  began 
to  tell  her  why  he  was  there.  He  had  been  in  love  with 
Helen,  but  it  was  a  different  kind  of  love  from  that  which 
he  now  felt  and  which  led  him  at  last  to  taking  one  of 
Alice's  hands  which  lay  in  her  lap.  She  looked  at  him 
in  some  surprise,  and  said  inquiringly,  "Mr.  Mason?" 

"I  wish  you  would  call  me  Craig,"  he  began.  "We 
surely  have  known  each  other  long  enough  to  dispense 
with  formalities.  To  me  you  are  Alice,  and  you  know 
I  was  engaged  to  your  cousin,  Mrs.  Hilton." 

"Yes,  she  wrote  me  so,"  Alice  replied,  and  Craig  went 
on:  "You  know,  too,  the  rest  of  the  story;  engaged 
to  me  one  night,  to  Mark  Hilton  the  next.  There  is 
no  need  to  go  over  with  it.  I  loved  her,  and  in  the  first 
days  of  bitter  pain  I  thought  I  could  never  be  happy 
again.  I  was  mistaken.  I  am  very  happy  and  would 


IN  THE   RED   SCHOOL   HOUSE.  221 

not  have  the  past  changed  if  I  could.  I  think  I  am  a 
bungler  at  love  making,  but  I  am  in  earnest  and  I  am 
here  to  ask  if  you  think  you  could  in  time  care  for  me 
who  once  made  a  fool  of  himself,  but  is  sane  now." 

He  had  made  his  speech  and  waited  for  Alice  to  an 
swer.  "Are  you  sure  you  are  making  no  mistake?"  she 
said.  "I  am  not  like  Helen, — not  like  your  world.  I  am 
a  plain  country  girl,  who,  if  she  did  not  teach  school  for 
a  living,  would  have  to  work  in  the  shoe  shop  or  factory. 
I  know  but  little  of  fashionable  life  such  as  your  wife 
ought  to  know,  I  am  not  very  good  looking, — and — 

"What  else?"  Craig  asked,  with  a  comical  smile  of 
which  she  caught  the  infection,  and  replied,  "I  do  not 
like  Browning,  and  don't  believe  I  could  understand 
Sordello  if  I  lived  to  be  a  hundred." 

Craig  laughed  immoderately,  and  drew  her  closely  to 
him.  He  did  not  ask  her  to  take  time  before  she  an 
swered  him.  He  wanted  an  answer  then,  and  had  it, 
and  they  were  plighted  to  each  other  for  all  time  to 
come.  They  had  talked  over  the  past  and  present. 
Craig  had  been  the  one  who  planned  everything,  while 
Alice  listened  with  a  feeling  that  this  great  happiness 
which  had  come  to  her  must  be  a  dream  from  which  she 
should  awaken.  But  Craig's  voice  and  manner  had  re 
assured  her.  There  was  no  Dido  there  running  away 
from  a  baby  cart.  He  had  his  hands  and  arms  and  lips 
free  and  had  used  them  in  a  way  which  would  have  as 
tonished  Helen  could  she  have  seen  him.  He  was  not 
willing  to  give  up  the  trip  to  Europe  which  had  been 
planned  under  different  auspices.  He  was  going  in  May 
and  Alice  and  his  mother  were  going  with  him.  There 
was  no  more  teaching  for  her  after  the  first  of  April,  when 
her  term  expired.  If  he  could  have  done  so  he  would 


222  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

have  had  her  give  up  her  school  at  once.    But  Alice  said 
no ;  a  bargain  was  a  bargain,  and  she  should  keep  to  it. 

"Thank  Heaven  it  is  only  two  weeks  more,"  Craig  said, 
as  he  locked  the  door  for  her,  and  then  the  two  walked 
slowly  down  the  street  towards  the  farmhouse. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 

THE   LAST    ACT    OF    PART    ONE. 

MRS.  WOOD'S  supper,  prepared  with  so  much  care,  was 
near  being  spoiled,  it  waited  so  long  for  Craig  and  Alice, 
who  did  not  reach  the  house  until  after  six  o'clock.  To 
Craig  it  did  not  matter  what  he  ate.  Nothing  mattered 
except  Alice,  with  whom  he  grew  more  and  more  in 
love  each  moment  he  spent  with  her.  Of  the  farmhouse 
and  its  appointments  he  scarcely  thought  at  all  except  as 
a  kind  of  Elysium  which  held  his  divinity.  Uncle 
Ephraim  and  Aunt  Mary  he  knew  were  plain  country 
people,  but  they  belonged  to  Alice  and  so  belonged  to 
him  and  he  once  caught  himself  about  to  address  Mrs. 
Wood  as  Aunt  Mary  in  the  familiar  conversation  which 
ensued  after  supper  was  over  and  he  had  made  his  errand 
known.  Neither  Mr.  nor  Mrs.  Wood  were  insensible 
to  the  good  fortune  which  had  come  to  Alice,  and  though 
it  would  be  hard  parting  with  her  they  did  not  withhold 
their  consent  and  accepted  Craig  readily  as  their  future 
nephew. 

All  preliminaries  were  settled  as  far  as  they  could  be 
until  Craig  saw  his  mother,  and  the  next  morning  he  left 
Rocky  Point,  promising  to  come  again  within  a  few  days 
and  saying  he  should  stop  in  Ridgefield  with  the  news. 


THE  LAST  ACT   OF  PART  ONE.  223 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor  were  just  sitting  down  to  their  tea 
when  Craig  walked  in  upon  them  and  unceremoniously 
drew  up  to  the  table  in  spite  of  Mr"s.  Taylor's  protesta 
tions  that  he  must  not  till  she  brought  down  the  silver 
forks  and  got  him  a  china  plate.  At  the  farm  house  he 
had  not  thought  whether  he  was  eating  from  the 
choicest  Dresden  or  the  coarsest  of  delft,  and  it  made  no 
difference  here.  The  light  of  a  great  happiness  was  in 
his  heart  and  after  supper  was  over  and  he  was  alone 
with  his  host  and  hostess  he  said  to  them  laughingly, 
''Guess  what  I  have  done." 

"I  know.  You  let  me  tell,"  Uncle  Zach  exclaimed, 
waving  his  hand  towards  his  wife,  who  was  about  to 
speak.  "You  have  offered  yourself  to  Miss  Alice.  Ain't 
I  right  ?" 

"Yes,  and  she  has  accepted,"  Craig  replied. 

"My  boy,  I  congratulate  you.  Yes,  sir,  I  do,  and  I'm 
most  as  pleased  as  I  should  be  if  it  was  I  instead  of  you," 
Uncle  Zach  exclaimed. 

"Zacheus,  I'm  ashamed  of  you, — putting  yourself  in 
Mr.  Mason's  place,  and  you  an  old  married  man,"  Mrs. 
Taylor  said  reprovingly,  but  her  husband  did  not  see  the 
point,  and  answered  her,  "There's  nothin'  to  be  ashamed 
of,  if  I  be  a  married  man.  I've  been  through  the  mill  and 
know  all  about  it  and  I  am  glad  for  'em.  When  is  it  to 
be?" 

"Some  time  in  May,"  Craig  said,  "and  you  and  Mrs. 
Taylor  are  to  attend  the  wedding." 

This  diverted  Zacheus's  thoughts  into  another  channel, 
and  after  Craig  left  the  next  morning  he  began  to  wonder 
if  he  ought  not  to  have  a  dress  coat  for  the  occasion  and 
if  the  tailor  in  town  could  make  it,  or  should  he  buy  it 
in  Worcester.  He  finally  decided  upon  the  tailor  in 


224  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

town  and  drove  him  wild  with  his  directions  and  sug 
gestions  and  fears  that  it  would  not  be  right. 

"I  want  it  O.  K.,  the  finest  of  broadcloth  and  made  up 
to  snuff,"  he  said,  and  he  went  every  day  to  see  how  it 
was  progressing. 

Uncle  Zacheus  in  a  dress  suit  was  something  of  a 
novelty  and  the  tailor  could  not  repress  a  smile  when  it 
was  finished  and  tried  on  for  the  last  time,  with  a  cut 
away  vest  to  show  the  shirt  front  in  which  there  was  to 
be  a  breast  pin  at  the  wedding. 

"I  look  kinder  droll  and  I  don't  feel  nateral,"  Uncle 
Zacheus  said,  examining  himself  in  the  long  glass.  "Why, 
I  ain't  much  bigger  than  Tom  Thumb.  Funny  that  a 
swaller  tail  makes  you  look  so  little.  I  wonder  what  Dot 
will  think.  She's  havin'  a  gown  made  in  Worcester, — 
plum  colored  satin,  with  lace." 

Dot,  who  had  never  taken  kindly  to  the  dress  suit, 
told  him  he  looked  like  a  fool  and  advised  him  to  wear 
the  coat  he  was  accustomed  to  wear  to  church. 

"Not  by  a  long  shot.  I  guess  I  know  what  is  what,  and 
I  ain't  goin'  to  mortify  Craig  and  Miss  Alice,"  he  said, 
and  his  suit  was  put  carefully  away  in  a  dressing  case, 
ready  for  the  wedding,  which  occurred  the  first  of  May. 

Craig  would  not  wait  any  longer,  and  when  Alice 
urged  her  lack  of  outfit  as  one  reason  for  delay  he  argued 
that  a  dress  to  be  married  in  was  all  she  needed.  They 
were  going  directly  to  Paris,  where  she  could  shop  to  her 
heart's  content  with  his  mother  to  assist  her.  No  day  in 
early  spring  could  be  finer  than  the  day  when  Craig  and 
Alice  were  married  very  quietly,  with  only  a  few  of  the 
neighbors  present.  Mrs.  Mason  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Tay 
lor  had  come  the  day  before,  as  the  wedding  was  to  take 
place  at  12  b'clock.  Mrs.  Mason  stopped  at  the  hotel 
with  Craig,  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor  were  entertained 


THE   LAST   ACT   OF   PART   ONE.  22 $ 

at  the  farm  house,  where  Uncle  Zach  made  himself  per 
fectly  at  home  and  almost  master  of  ceremonies.  He  had 
brought  his  dress  suit  and  long  before  the  hour  for  the 
ceremony  appeared  in  it,  greatly  to  the  amusement  of 
Craig  and  Alice,  who  were  glad  he  wore  it  he  was  so 
proud  and  so  happy  that  he  had  beaten  the  crowd  in  their 
Prince  Alberts  and  cutaways.  There  were  a  few  presents 
from  some  of  Alice's  scholars  and  inmmediate  friends ;  a 
costly  bracelet  from  Helen,  whose  letter  of  congratula 
tions  rang  true  and  hearty,  and  from  Airs.  Tracy  the 
diamond  pin  which  had  belonged  with  the  ear-rings  and 
which  Helen  had  left  at  home,  as  she  did  not  care  for  it. 

"I  am  pleased  to  be  rid  of  it,"  Airs.  Tracy  wrote.  "It 
is  a  constant  reminder  of  my  disgrace,  from  which  I  have 
not  recovered  and  never  shall.  I  am  glad  for  you  to  have 
it  and  glad  for  you  to  have  Craig,  too." 

She  had  invited  the  party  to  stop  with  her  during  the 
few  days  they  were  to  stay  in  the  city  before  the  Celtic 
sailed,  and  had  urged  her  invitation  so  warmly  that  they 
accepted  and  left  for  New  York  on  the  afternoon 
train.  Mr.  and  Airs.  Taylor  spent  another  night  in 
Rocky  Point  and  then  returned  to  the  Prospect  House, 
where  Uncle  Zach  was  never  tired  talking  of  the  wedding 

and  showing  his  dress  suit, "the  only  one  there,  if 

you'll  believe  it;  even  Craig  wore  a  common  coat. 
Curis,  wasn't  it,"  he  said  to  an  acquaintance,  who  prided 
himself  on  being  frank  and  outspoken,  no  matter  how 
much  the  frankness  hurt. 

"Not  curious  at  all,"  he  said.  "People  don't  wear 
swallowr  tails  to  morning  weddings.  They  are  reserved 
for  evening.  You  were  quite  out  of  style." 

"You  don't  say  so, "Uncle  Zach  replied, his  countenance 
falling  as  it  began  to  dawn  upon  him  that  he  might  have 
made  a  mistake,  "Dot  will  know,"  he  thought,  and  after 


226  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

a  while  he  went  to  her  and  said,  "John  Dickson  says 
they  don't  wear  swallers  to  mornin'  weddin's.  Did  I 
make  a  fool  of  myself?" 

Mrs.  Taylor  was  out  of  sorts  with  some  kitchen 
trouble  and  answered  sharply :  "Of  course  you  did.  I 
knew  it  all  the  time,  when  nobody  else,  not  even  Craig, 
wore  one." 

This  hurt  worse  than  John  Dickson's  words  had  done. 

"I  felt  so  fine  and  looked  so  foolish.  What  must 
Craig  and  Alice  and  Miss  Mason  have  thought  of  me  ?" 
he  said  to  himself.  "Yes,  I  was  a  fool, — a  dum  fool,  and 
I  looked  like  a  fool  in  'em.  Dot  said  so,  she  knows,  and 
I'll  never  wear  'em  again.  I'll  put  'em  out  of  sight,  where 
nobody  can  see  the  old  man's  folly,  and  mabby,  bimeby, 
when  they  send  a  box  to  the  heathen,  I'll  put  'em  in. 
Pity  to  have  'em  et  with  moths  when  they  cost  so  much, 
and  only  wore  once." 

He  carried  them  to  the  attic, — gave  one  long  regretful 
look  at  them  and  packed  them  away  in  the  hair  trunk 
with  Taylor's  Tavern  and  Johnny's  blanket. 

A  few  days  later  there  came  a  line  from  Alice  written 
on  board  the  ship.  The  next  day  there  was  a  letter  from 
Helen,  telling  of  her  house  and  the  dinners  and  lunches 
and  receptions  she  was  attending  and  giving.  She  spoke 
also  of  Jeff,  who  was  doing  well  in  school,  and  of  Mark, 
the  best  husband  in  the  world. 

"I'm  glad  on't,"  Uncle  Zach  said,  as  Dot  read  the  letter 
to  him.  "It  seems  as  if  they  was  my  children,  Alice  and 
Craig,  Mark  and  Helen,  and  Jeff.  I'm  glad  they  are  so 
happy." 

Mrs.  Taylor  had  not  her  husband's  hopeful  nature.  If 
the  sun  shone  bright  in  the  morning  she  wanted  to  see 
what  the  weather  was  at  noon  before  admitting  that  it 


THE   LAST  ACT   OF  PART  ONE.  22/ 

was  fine,  and  now  she  answered,  "Wait  a  few  years  and 
see  what  happens." 

"I  shan't  wait.  I'm  glad  they  are  happy  now,"  Uncle 
Zach  replied,  resolutely  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  present, 
and  never  dreaming  of  the  drama  which  the  future  was  to 
unroll  and  in  which  his  so  called  children  were  to  take 
an  active  part. 


END  OF  PART   I. 


PART   II. 
CHAPTER   I. 

FANNY  AND  ROY. 

THE  October  sun  was  shining  brightly  into  the  win 
dows  of  a  handsome  drawing  room  in  New  York,  where 
two  young  people  were  talking  earnestly  together.  The 
girl  was  scarcely  twenty  and  looked  younger.  She  was 
short  and  slight  and  dainty  and  sweet,  with  beautiful 
blue  eyes  which  laughed  when  she  laughed  and  gave  a 
wonderful  brightness  to  her  face.  There  was  something 
peculiar  in  their  expression  which  was  rapid  and  search 
ing  and  made  the  young  man  beside  her  wonder  if  what 
they  saw  in  him  boded  good  or  ill  to  his  suit.  He  was 
twenty-two,  tall  and  straight  and  broad  shouldered,  with 
something  in  his  voice  and  features  and  manner  which 
reminded  one  of  the  July  morning  twenty-three  years  be 
fore  when  Craig  Mason  sat  on  the  north  piazza  of  the 
Prospect  House  and  talked  to  Alice  Tracy.  To  one  who 
had  been  in  Ridgefield  that  summer  there  would  have 
come  back  the  scent  of  the  new  mown  hay  and  the  per 
fume  of  the  white  pond  lilies  Alice  wore  in  her  belt,  and 
in  the  young  man's  eyes  he  would  have  seen  a  likeness  to 
Alice's  eyes,  with  thicker  lashes  and  heavier  brows. 

After  this  the  reader  scarcely  need  be  told  that  the 
young  man  was  the  son  of  Craig  and  Alice,  born  abroad 
where  his  parents  had  spent  much  of  their  time  since 
their  marriage,  with  occasional  visits  to  America.  Alice 
had  been  delighted  with  the  old  world,  and  as  Craig's 
[228] 


FANNY    AND   ROY. 

health  was  better  there  they  had  staid  on  and  on, — some 
times  in  Paris  where  their  son  Roy  was  born,  sometimes 
in  Switzerland,  sometimes  in  Italy,  and  once  for  a  winter 
in  Cairo,,  and  again  in  London,  where  Craig's  mother 
died.  They  had  brought  her  back  to  Boston,  and  tired 
of  wandering  with  no  particular  home,  had  decided  to 
settle  down  quietly  for  a  time  at  least.  But  not  in  the 
house  Craig  had  looked  at  for  himself  and  Helen. 
Nothing  could  have  induced  him  to  take  that  at  any 
price.  He  preferred  his  mother's  old  home,  which,  if  not 
in  so  fashionable  a  part  of  the  city,  was  dear  to  him  for 
its  associations  with  his  boyhood  and  manhood  and 
mother.  Here  they  had  lived  for  three  years,  two  of 
which  Roy  had  spent  at  Harvard,  where  he  had  entered 
as  a  Junior,  studying  hard  in  order  to  be  graduated  with 
honor,  and  still  managing  to  join  in  a  good  many  athletic 
sports  and  to  fall  in  love  with  his  pretty  half  cousin, 
Fanny  Prescott,  a  pupil  in  a  private  school.  She  had 
thought  him  a  boy  at  first  and  played  with  and  teased 
him  unmercifully,  now  sending  him  from  her  in  a  rage 
and  then  luring  him  back  with  a  trick  of  her  eyes  which 
we  have  seen  before.  She  had  not  inherited  all  her 
mother's  dazzling  beauty  and  but  little  of  her  nature. 
In  her  frankness  and  perfect  truthfulness  she  resembled 
Alice.  Her  Sundays  when  at  school  had  been  spent  with 
the  Masons,  and  thus  Roy  had  every  facility  for  falling 
in  love  with  her.  But  while  she  kept  him  at  fever  heat 
with  her  innocent  coquetries  she  gave  him  no  encour 
agement.  Once,  when  he  said,  "I  must  and  will  speak 
seriously  to  you,"  she  called  him  a  big  boy  and  told  him 
to  wait  till  he  had  his  diploma  and  a  mustache.  He  had 
them  both  now ;  the  mustache  was  a  very  small  one, 
which  some  might  think  did  not  add  to  his  face.  The 


230  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

diploma,  received  in  June,  was  en  regie,  and  he  had 
come  for  the  serious  talk. 

He  had  not  seen  her  since  May,  at  which  time  she 
had  been  called  home  by  the  sudden  illness  and  death 
of  her  father,  Judge  Prescott.  As  it  was  so  near  the 
close  of  the  term  she  had  not  returned  to  school,  but 
had  spent  the  summer  with  her  mother  at  a  quiet  place 
among  the  Adirondacks.  She  did  not  know  that  he  was 
coming  but  was  glad  to  see  him,  and  led  him  to  a  sofa 
on  which  they  both  sat  down.  Then  her  manner  changed 
suddenly  to  one  of  shyness  and  almost  shamefacedness 
as  she  moved  away  from  him  and  put  a  sofa  cushion 
between  them.  She  was  in  mourning  for  her  father  and 
the  black  brought  out  the  purity  of  her  complexion  and 
the  brightness  of  her  eyes  which  filled  with  tears  when 
Roy  spoke  of  her  father  and  his  grief  when  he  heard  he 
was  dead. 

"Don't  talk  of  him.  I  can't  bear  it  yet.  Talk  of  some 
thing  else,  please,"  she  said,  and  Roy  plunged  at  once 
into  the  object  of  his  visit,  reminding  her  that  he  had 
his  diploma  and  his  mustache,  and  now  he  wanted  her 
love.  , 

"Oh,  Roy,  it's  too  bad  in  you  to  spoil  our  good  times 
as  friends.  As  lovers  we  might  quarrel,  and  then  we  are 
cousins,"  she  said. 

"Only  seconds,  which  does  not  count,"  Roy  answered, 
moving  nearer  to  her,  while  she  put  another  cushion  be 
tween  them  so  that  only  her  shoulders  and  head  were 
visible. 

Roy  was  of  a  more  ardent  nature  than  his  father,  and 
there  was  no  stiffness  or  hesitancy  in  his  wooing  when 
once  he  was  fairly  under  way. 

"You  can  pile  up  the  cushions  till  I  can't  see  you  at 
all,"  he  said,  "but  it  will  not  prevent  you  from  hearing 


FANNY  AND   ROY.  S.$\ 

me  tel!  you  that  I  love  you  and  have  ever  since  I  saw 
you  in  short  dresses,  with  your  hair  down  your  back." 

For  a  time  Fanny  listened  with  her  face  bent  down, 
and  when  she  turned  it  to  him  there  was  a  troubled  look 
upon  it  and  her  lips  quivered  as  she  said,  "I  do  care  for 
you,  Roy,  and  always  have;  but  I  must  not  anv  more. 
You  will  not  want  me  to  either  when  you  know  what 
I  do." 

"What  do  you  know?"  he  asked,  beginning  to  slide 
his  hand  under  the  cushions. 

"Have  you  never  heard  anything  bad  about  me  or 
mother?"  she  asked,  and  Roy  answered,  with  so  sudden 
a  movement  that  one  of  the  cushions  fell  to  the  floor. 

"Bad  about  you,  or  your  mother?  Never.  I  would 
have  thrashed  any  one  who  insinuated  anything  against 
you.  What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  am  not  Fanny  Prescott,"  the  girl  said  with  a  sob  in 
her  voice. 

"The  deuce  you  are  not!  Who  are  you,  then,  if  you 
are  not  your  father's  daughter?"  Roy  asked,  and'Fanny 
replied,  "[  am  my  father's  daughter,  but  my  father  was 
not  Judge  Prescott,  as  I  thought.  I  never  knew  it  till 
he  died  last  May.  Mother  had  to  tell  me  then  on  account 
of  some  business  matters  and  it  almost  broke  my  heart, 
I  was  so  fond  of  him  and  so  proud  of  being  his  daughter 
and  he  was  so  kind  to  me.  I  held  his  hand  when  he  died 
and  kissed  him  and  called  him  father  and  didn't  suspect 
the  truth.  I  don't  think  you  will  care  for  me  when  you 
know  all.  I  have  always  heard  the  Masons  were  very 
proud." 

"And  I  have  always  heard  the  Tracys  were  very  proud. 
Greek  meeting  Greek,  you  see,  Roy  rejoined.  "But  go 
ahead.  Let's  hear  the  story.  Nothing  can  ever  change 
my  love  for  you.  Who  are  you  ?  Who  was  your  father  ?" 


232  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

"Have  you  ever  heard  of  the  Prospect  House  in  Ridge- 
field,  Mass.?"  Fanny  asked,  and  Roy  answered  briskly, 
"I  guess  1  have.  It  was  there  father  met  my  mother, 
twenty-three  years  ago.  I  had  heard  piles  about  it  and 
the  funny  little  landlord  before  I  went  there  this  last 
summer  with  father  and  mother.  We  had  a  fancy  to 
drive  through  the  country,  stopping  where  night  over 
took  us,  and  the  second  day  we  reached  the  Prospect 
House,  which  looks  rather  old  fashioned  beside  the  fine 
hotel  which  has  been  built  on  the  Common.  I  wanted 
to  stop  there  but  nothing  could  keep  father  from  the 
Prospect  House,  and  I  was  glad  we  went  there.  I  _  wish 
you  could  see  the  landlord,  Uncle  Zach  they  call  him. 
He  is  an  old  man  with  such  a  fat  body  and  short  legs 
and  round  good  natured  face,  and  what  do  you  think  he 
called  his  wife?" 

Fanny  could  not  guess,  and  Roy  continued,  "Dot,  and 
Dotty,  and  I'll  bet  she  weighs  two  hundred,  and  is  nearer 
eighty  than  seventy.  Think  of  calling  her  Dotty !  There 
is  love  of  the  right  sort,  isn't  it?  But  I  shall  love  you 
just  as  well  when  you  weigh  three  hundred  and  are 
ninety,  as  I  do  now." 

His  hand  had  gotten  quite  under  the  cushion  and  had 
one  of  Fanny's. 

"You  hurt,"  she  said,  as  he  gave  it  a  hard  squeeze. 
"And  you  must  not  hold  it  either.  You  don't  know  at 
all  who  I  am.  Did  they  mention  Mark  Hilton  at  the 
Prospect  House?" 

"Why,  yes,  I  think  they  did,"  Roy  said  slowly,  as  if 
trying  to  recall  something  which  had  slipped  his  memory. 
"Father  and  mother  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor  were  talk 
ing  and  I  heard  that  name  I  am  sure.  When  I  joined 
them  they  stopped  suddenly,  as  if  they  did  not  care  to 


FANNY   AND   ROY.  233 

continue  the  conversation.  Who  was  he,  anyway  ?  Some 
scamp  ?" 

"He  was  my  father,"  Fanny  said  defiantly. 

"Your  father!  Great  Scott,  why  didn't  you  say  so?" 
Roy  exclaimed. 

"You  needn't  swear  if  he  was  my  father,"  Fanny  an 
swered,  beginning  to  cry. 

The  second  cushion  had  followed  the  first  to  the  floor 
by  this  time  and  Roy  had  his  arm  around  Fanny,  to 
whom  he  said,  "Don't  cry.  Great  Scott  isn't  a  swear.  I 
only  said  it  because  I  must  say  something.  What  of 
Mark  Hilton  ?" 

"He  was  clerk  at  the  Prospect  House,  and  none  the 
wrorse  for  that.  The  Vanderbilts  and  Astors  and  a  lot 
more  people  did  not  have  as  good  a  beginning,"  Fanny 
said,  and  Roy  replied,  "Of  course  not.  Very  few  of  us 
can  boast  of  high-toned  beginnings.  My  great-grand 
father  was  a  carpenter." 

"Pho !"  Fanny  said,  with  a  laugh  which  had  not  much 
mirth  in  it.  "I  can  beat  that  on  a  grandmother  when  I 
get  to  her.  I  don't  think  a  carpenter  at  all  bad." 

"Neither  do  I,"  Roy  said,  "and  I  don't  car^  if  your 
father  was  a  tinker.  Tell  me  about  him." 

"You  see,  it  was  this  way,"  Fanny  began.  "My  mother 
was  at  the  hotel  the  same  summer  with  your  father  and 
mother.  Mr.  Hilton  was  very  handsome  and  very  tall 
and  very  nice.  I  know  he  \vas  nice,"  and  she  empha 
sized  her  wrords  with  sundry  nods  of  her  head  as  a  warn 
ing  that  she  was  not  to'  be  disputed. 

"Of  course  he  was  nice,  or  he  couldn't  have  been  your 
father,"  Roy  said,  and  Fanny  continued,  "Mother,  you 
know,  is  very  handsome  no\v.  She  was  beautiful  then, — 
a  belle  and  an  heiress  and  a  great  catch.  She'd  had  I 
don't  know  how  many  offers,  fifty  maybe,  and  she  has 


234  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

a  book  with  all  their  names  in  it.  I  tried  to  have  her 
show  it  to  me  once  and  she  wouldn't.  She  keeps  it  to 
remind  her  of  other  days  when  she  feels  depressed. 
Grandma  Tracy  thought  she  ought  to  marry  the  Presi 
dent,  or  somebody  like  him,  but  she  loved  my  father  and 
the  same  as  eloped  with  him.  She  came  to  New  York  in 
the  morning  on  an  errand.  He  came  in  the  evening  and 
they  were  married  the  next  day.  Grandma  wouldn't 
forgive  them,  or  see  my  mother  until  after  she  was 
divorced.  I  think  that  word  has  a  bad  sound,  and  I  am 
ashamed  of  it,  but  I  am  telling  you  everything  just  as  I 
made  mother  tell  me.  I  was  ill  for  weeks  after  it,  and 
thought  everybody  who  looked  at  me  was  thinking 
about  it." 

"What  a  foolish  little  girl,"  Roy  said,  trying  to  pull 
her  head  down  upon  his  shoulder.  "Lots  of  people  are 
divorced  and  nothing  is  thought  of  it.  It  is  quite  the 
fashion." 

"I  don't  care  if  they  are,"  Fanny  replied.  "I  think  it  is 
wicked,  and  told  mother  so.  Don't  hold  my  head  down. 
I  am  going  to  keep  it  up  as  long  as  I  can.  By  and  by 
I  shall  want  to  hang  it  so  low, — oh,  so  low!" 

"Not  on  account  of  a  divorce,"  Roy  said,  and  Fanny 
rejoined,  "That  isn't  all ;  there  is  something  a  great  deal 
worse.  Father  and  mother  went  to  Chicago  and  were 
very  happy  for  a  while, — then  not  so  happy,  and  then  not 
happy  at  all.  Mother  says  she  was  more  to  blame  than 
he.  She  liked  attention  and  had  it,  and  that  made  him 
jealous,  and  she  used  to  tell  him  that  she  stooped  when 
she  married  him,  and  taunted  him  with  what  I'm  going 
to  tell  you  about  by  and  by.  I  was  six  months  old  and 
don't  remember  it  of  course, — their  quarrelling.  I  mean. 
He  loved  me,  I  know." 

"I  am  sure  he  did,"  Roy  interrupted  her,  giving  her  at 


FANNY   AND   ROY.  235 

the  same  time  a  squeeze  which  she  did  not  seem  to 
notice,  she  was  so  absorbed  in  her  story. 

"Once  mother  told  him  she  wished  he  would  go  away 
and  never  come  back,  and  he  did  go,  and  never  came 
back.  There  was  a  boy  living  with  them,  — Jefferson 
Wilkes,  in  whom  my  father  was  interested  and  who  had 
come  to  them  from  the  Prospect  House.  Jeff,  they 
called  him,  and  he  went  with  my  father.  After  a  while 
mother  instituted  proceedings  for  a  divorce  on  the  ground 
of  desertion  and  incompatibility  and  phychological  repul 
sion.  Do  you  know  what  that  is?" 

"I  know  what  it  isn't,"  Roy  said,  kissing  the  face  which 
began  to  look  very  pitiful  as  the  story  progressed. 

"Mother  knew  where  father  was  for  a  time  and  sent 
him  a  copy  of  the  divorce.  He  replied,  'I  congratulate 
you  on  your  freedom.  You  will  not  have  any  trouble 
in  filling  my  place.  You  are  young  enough  and  hand 
some  enough  to  have  twenty-two  more  offers.  Jeff  and 
I  are  off  for  the  mines  in  Montana.  Te41  the  baby,  when 
she  is  old  enough  to  understand,  that,  bad  as  I  was,  I 
loved  her.  Mark  Hilton.' 

"I  was  ill  with  diphtheria  when  mother  received  the 
note, — so  ill  that  the  papers,  when  commenting  on  the 
divorce,  said  that  I  was  dead.  Six  months  later  mother 
saw  an  account  of  a  terrible  accident  in  some  mines  in 
Montana.  In  the  li'st  of  killed  was  my  father's  name, 
but  there  was  no  mention  of  Jeff.  Mother  tried  to  learn 
the  particulars,  but  could  not,  and  after  a  while  she  came 
back  to  New  York  deserted,  divorced  and  widowed,  but 
still  very  beautiful.  We  lived  with  grandma,  a  proud 
old  lady,  who  had  never  received  my  father.  She  is 
dead  now  and  I  do  not  remember  her.  Among  moth 
er's  friends  was  Judge  Prescott,  whom  she  used  to  know, 
and  who,  I  think,  wanted  her  before  she  married  my 


236  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

father.  When  I  was  two  and  a  half  years  old  she  married 
him  and  at  his  request  I  took  his  name.  I  was  christened 
Frances,  but  he  did  not  like  that  name  and  I  was  called 
Fanny  to  please  him.  I  like  it  better  than  Frances,  don't 
you  ?" 

Roy  would  have  liked  any  name  which  belonged  to 
her  and  said  so,,  while  she  continued :  "You  were  in  Eu 
rope  when  all  this  happened  and  knew  nothing  about  it 
as  you  are  not  much  older  than  I  am." 

"Two  years,"  Roy  said,  kissing  her  again,  while  she 
tried  to  disengage  herself  from  him,  but  could  not,  for 
a  lock  of  her  hair  had  become  frightfully  entangled  in  a 
button  of  his  coat. 

It  took  some  time  to  disentangle  it  and  Fanny  was 
obliged  to  lie  quietly  upon  Roy's  arm,  with  her  face  up 
turned  to  him  so  temptingly  that  not  to  kiss  it  occasion 
ally  was  impossible  for  one  of  his  temperament. 

"Roy  Mason!"  she  exclaimed,  "You  must  not  kiss 
and  squeeze  me  the  way  you  are  doing,  and  I  not  able 
to  get  away,  with  my  hair  all  snarled  up  in  your  buttons. 
It  is  mean  in  you,  and  I'll  call  mother  if  you  don't  stop. 
I  believe  she  is  in  the  next  room,  listening,  perhaps." 

"Let  her  listen.  She  was  young  once,"  Roy  said,  go 
ing  on  very  deliberately,  while  Fanny,  from  necessity, 
lay  passive  on  his  arm. 

When  the  hair  business  was  settled  she  moved  away 
from  him,  and  picking  up  a  cushion  put  it  between  them 
again. 

"I  was  telling  you  about  Judge  Prescott,  whom  I  called 
my  father,  although  now  I  have  a  faint  recollection  of  a 
time  when  there  was  no  gentleman  in  our  house,"  she 
said.  "When  he  died  mother  told  me  everything.  I 
don't  think  she  meant  to  tell  me  the  whole  dreadful 
story,  but  she  gave  some  hints  and  I  \VQ"M  nOt  let  her 


FANNY  AND   ROY.  237 

stop.  I  said  I'd  go  to  Ridgefield  and  inquire,  and  so  she 
had  to  tell  me,  and  if  there  is  more  to  know  I  do  not 
care  to  hear  it.  I  feel  now  as  if  my  life  had  been  all  a  lie. 
Fanny  Prescott,  indeed !  When  I  am  really  Fanny  Hil 
ton,  and  that  is  not  the  worst  of  it.  Stop,  Roy !  You 
shall  not  touch  me  again  till  I'm  through,"  she  said,  as 
Roy's  arm  came  over  the  cushion  toward  her  hand. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  haunted  house  in  Ridgefield, 
where  a  woman  in  a  white  gown  and  blue  ribbons  walks 
at  night  and  a  drowning  man  calls  for  'Tina.  That's 
the  woman's  name,  and  she  sat  still  and  let  him  drown, 
and  a  baby  cries  at  all  hours  for  its  mother?  That  is 
'Tina,  too,, — who — who — was  hung!" 

"By  Jove,  that's  a  corker  for  a  story !"  Roy  replied.  "I 
never  heard  of  it  before,  but  I  like  haunted  houses,  with 
women  in  white  and  blue  ribbons  and  cries  for  'Tina, 
who  was  hung!  Tell  me  about  it,  and  what  it  has  to  do 
with  you." 

In  as  few  words  as  possible  Fanny  told  the  story,  of 
the  Dalton  tragedy  as  she  had  heard  it  from  her  mother, 
while  Roy  listened  with  absorbing  interest. 

"What  do  you  think  now  of  the  great-great-grand 
daughter  of  'Tina?"  Fanny  asked  when  the  story  was 
ended. 

"I  think  her  the  sweetest,  dearest  little  girl  in  all  the 
world,  and  do  not  care  a  continental  for  the  woman  in 
white  and  blue  ribbons,  or  the  haunted  house.  You  say 
there  is  only  a  cellar  hole  there  now  and  that  it  belongs 
to  you  or  your  mother,"  Roy  answered,  throwing  the 
cushion  half  way  across  the  room  and  putting  both  arms 
around  Fanny,  who  was  crying,  but  who  sat  very  still 
while  he  went  on,  "I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do  when  we  are 
married.  We  will  build  a  pretty  cottage  there, — a  real  up- 
to-date  one,  with  bay  windows  and  wide  piazzas  and  give 


238  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

'Tina  a  chance  to  perambulate  under  cover  rainy  nights. 
You  say  she  takes  such  times  to  walk  in  preference  to 
pleasant  weather.  I  should  think  that  white  dress 
would  be  rather  frayed  and  draggled  and  the  blue  rib 
bons  slimpsy  by  this  time." 

He  was  making  light  of  the  matter  and  a  load  was  lift 
ed  from  Fanny's  heart,  for  she  had  dreaded  telling  him 
the  story  which  had  weighed  so  heavily  upon  her  since 
she  heard  it. 

"It  is  so  kind  in  you,  Roy,  not  to  care  about  that 
hanging,"  she  said.  "I  have  felt  the  rope  around  my 
neck  so  many  times  and  have  dreamed  that  I  was  'Tina. 
I  must  look  like  her.  She  was  blue-eyed  and  fair-haired 
and  small,  just  like  me,  who  am  not  a  bit  like  mother. 
Her  grave  is  in  the  Ridgefield  cemetery,  'Tina's  I  mean, 
and  mother  sat  there  on  the  wall  right  by  it  when  father 
told  her  the  story.  He  didn't  keep  anything  back,  and 
held  his  head  just  as  high  when  he  said,  'My  great- 
grandmother  was  hung.'  His  grandfather  was  the  baby 
who  cried  for  its  mother.  I've  heard  that,  too,  when  I 
have  been  awake  in  the  night  and  been  so  sorry  for  it. 
Mother  says  my  father  was  very  tall  and  fine-looking, 
and  that  I  have  some  of  his  ways  with  my  eyes  and  hands, 
I  have  dreamed  of  him  so  often  since  she  told  me,  and 
sometimes  it  seems  to  me  he  is  not  dead.  There  is  no 
proof  except  that  notice  in  the  paper  and  a  letter  mother 
had  from  the  mines  saying  some  of  the  bodies  were  so 
crushed  they  could  not  be  recognized,  and  as  my  father 
was  known  to  be  in  the  mine  and  never  seen  again,  it 
was  highly  probable  he  was  dead.  Oh,  if  I  could  find 
him  !  I  think  you'd  better  hunt  for  him  than  to  be  build 
ing  a  cottage  to  keep  'Tina  from  the  rain !" 

She  spoke  lightly  now.    Roy  evidently  didn't  care  and 


MRS.   PKESCOTT.  239 

the  tragedy  which  had  cast  so  dark  a  shadow  on  her  life 
when  she  heard  of  it  began  to  lessen  in  its  proportions. 

"I  hear  mother,"  she  said  at  last.  "I  thought  she  was 
in  the  next  room,  but  she  is  a  little  deaf.  I  don't  believe 
she  has  heard  all  the  foolish  things  you  have  said  to 
me  Mother,  here  is  Roy,"  she  continued,  as  the  heavy 
portieres  parted  and  her  mother  stood  before  her. 


CHAPTER  II, 

MRS.    PRESCOTT. 

NATURALLY  twenty-three  years  had  changed  her  some 
what.  The  freshness  and  grace  of  youth  were  gone, 
with  much  of  her  brilliant  complexion.  Her  dark  hair 
was  sprinkled  with  grey,  and  her  eyes  had  lost  some 
of  the  sparkle  which  had  lured  so  many  suitors  to  her 
side,  but  she  was  a  very  beautiful  woman  still,  whom 
strangers  looked  at  a  second  time,  inquiring  who  she 
was.  She  had  at  first  rebelled  against  wearing  widow's 
weeds,  but  when  she  saw  how  becoming  they  were  to  her 
she  became  quite  reconciled  to  her  mourning  and  was 
beginning  to  feel  reconciled  to  her  widowhood,  which 
gave  her  the  freedom  she  had  not  enjoyed  since  her 
second  marriage.  She  had  paid  a"  full  penalty  for  her 
heartless  act  and  had  repented  of  her  folly.  There  had 
been  a  year  of  so  of  perfect  happiness  with  Mark  Hilton 
and  then  the  restraints  of  married  life  began  to  weary 
her  It  had  been  her  boast  that  because  her  husband 
knew  her  so  well  he  could  never  find  fault  with  her,  and 
there  she  was  mistaken. 

fie  was  fond  of  her  and  proud  of  her  and  glad  to  see 


240  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

her  admired  as  long  as  the  admiration  was  unsought, 
but  when  with  the  little  arts  she  knew  so  well  she  tried 
to  attract  attention  his  jealousy  was  aroused,  and  grad 
ually  there  came  to  be  stormy  scenes  between  them, — 
bitter  quarrels  when  things  were  said  on  both  sides  which 
it  was  hard  to  forget.  Finding  that  with  all  his  apparent 
unconcern  he  was  sore  on  the  subject  of  his  antecedents 
Helen  used  that  as  a  lash  and  often  reminded  him  of  the 
difference  in  their  social  positions  and  the  depth  to 
which  she  stooped  when  she  married  him.  Then  they 
quarreled  more  fiercely  than  ever  and  the  baby  was  made 
the  instrument  of  goading  Mark  to  madness.  That  it 
had  a  drop  of  blood  in  its  veins  which  could  be  traced 
back  to  a  scaffold  was  often  a  source  of  regret  with  Helen 
coupled  with  a  wish  that  she  had  married  Craig  Mason 
instead  of  throwing  herself  away  on  a  hotel  clerk,  with 
no  family  connections.  Mark  was  not  naturally  bad- 
tempered  ;  neither  was  Helen.  They  were  simply  wholly 
unsuited  to  each  other.  They  had  married  in  haste, 
trampling  upon  the  rights  and  happiness  of  Craig  Mason 
without  remorse,  and  as  a  natural  sequence  reaped  the 
consequence  of  their  sin. 

At  last,  after  a  sharp  altercation  in  which  Helen  ex 
pressed  a  wish  that  she  had  never  seen  her  husband,  he 
left  her,  taking  Jeff  with  him  and  leaving  a  note  saying 
he  should  not  return  as  he  was  tired  of  the  life  he  was 
living.  Urged  on  by  her  mother,  who  had  never  accept 
ed  Mark  as  a  son-in-law,  a  divorce  was  easily  obtained 
and  Helen  free  from  the  tie  which  had  become  so  dis 
tasteful  to  her.  Chancing  to  know  that  Mark  was  in 
Denver  she  sent  him  a  copy  of  the  divorce  and  received 
in  return  the  note  of  which  Fanny  had  told  Roy.  After 
that  she  knew  no  more  of  him  until  she  heard  of  a  terri 
ble  explosion  in  some  mine  in  Montana.  Among  the 


MRS.   PRESCOTT.  §41 

killed  was  Mark  Hilton's  name.  Then  in  an  agony  of 
remorse  she  tried  to  verify  the  report.  What  she  learned 
was  that  none  of  the  bodies  could  be  identified,  they  were 
so  bruised  and  burned.  Mark  was  known  to  have  been 
in  the  mine  and  never  seen  after.  Of  Jeff  nothing  was 
known.  He  might,  or  might  not,  have  been  in  the  mine. 
In  all  human  probability  Mark  was  dead,  and  the  di 
vorce,  of  which  she  did  not  like  to  think,  need  not  have 
been  obtained.  She  was  free  without  it  and  always  spoke 
of  herself  to  her  friends  as  a  widow,  although  she  wore 
no  black.  If  any  of  her  old  tenderness  for  Mark  Hilton 
returned  toJier  at  times  she  gave  no  sign  and  was  out 
wardly  unchanged,  except  that  she  was  very  quiet  and 
shunned  society  rather  than  courted  it. 

At  her  mother's  request  she  returned  to  her  home  in 
New  York  and  there  at  last  met  again  the  Walter  Pres- 
cott  whose  name  had  been  in  her  blue  book  as  her  pos 
sible  husband  before  she  met  Craig  Mason.  In  some 
respects  he  was  like  Craig,  undemonstrative,  caring  little 
for  society  and  much  for  books.  He  had  never  forgotten 
Helen  and  soon  fell  again  under  her  spell.  He  knew  of 
her  divorce  and  would  rather  it  had  not  been,  but  her 
beauty  conquered  him  and  she  became  his  wife  and  mis 
tress  of  one  of  the  finest  establishments  in  New  York. 
With  Judge  Prescott,  whom  she  respected  and  feared,  she 
lived  very  comfortably.  He  was  not  a  man  to  tolerate 
any  nonsense.  His  wife,  like  Caesar's,  must  be  above  re 
proach,  and  from  the  first  he  was  master  of  the  situa 
tion. 

Helen  was  very  fond  of  Fanny,  \vho  was  as  unlike  her 
as  it  was  possible  for  a  child  to  be  unlike  its  mother.  "She 
has  not  a  feature  like  me,  nor  like  her  father,  either,  un 
less  it  is  something  in  the  expression  of  her  eyes  and  the 
gesture  of  her  hands,"  she  often  thought,  as  she  studied 


242  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS.' 

Fanny's  face  and  wondered  where  she  got  her  blue  eyes 
and  fair  hair  and  the  delicacy  of  her  complexion  and 
form.  "I  believe  she  gets  it  a  hundred  years  back  from 
'Tina,"  she  sometimes  said,  and  then  for  a  while  re 
belled  against  the  heritage  she  had  given  her  lovely 
daughter.  "She  shall  never  know  of  it,"  she  thought, 
and  kept  it  to  herself  until  Judge  Prescott's  death,  when 
it  seemed  necessary  to  tell  Fanny  of  her  real  father. 

Seizing  upon  something  inadvertently  spoken,  Fanny, 
who  was  persistent  and  determined,  never  rested  until 
she  knew  the  whole  story  as  her  mother  knew  it.  Over 
the  father  killed  in  the  mines  she  wept  bitterly,  while  the 
tragedy  rilled  her  with  horror  and  for  a  time  she  refused 
to  see  anyone  lest  they  should  read  in  her  face  the  secret 
which  was  making  her  life  miserable.  She  had  been  so 
proud  of  being  a  Prescott  and  proud  of  her  supposed 
father  that  it  was  hard  to  find  herself  suddenly  stranded 
with  no  father,  no  name  of  which  to  boast,  and  she  had 
dreamed  many  a  night  of  the  scaffold  and  of  'Tina,  whom 
she  was  sure  she  resembled.  "What  will  Roy  say  when 
he  knows,"  had  been  in  her  thoughts  all  the  long  sum 
mer  while  she  was  with  her  mother  in  the  quiet  moun 
tain  resort.  That  Roy  loved  her  she  knew  and  that  he 
would  sometime  tell  her  so  she  was  sure.  "And  when 
he  does  I  must  tell  him  everything  and  he  will  not  care 
for  me  any  more,"  she  thought.  He  had  declared  his 
love.  She  had  told  him  everything,  and  he  did  not  care ; 
he  could  even  jest  about  'Tina  and  talk  of  a  cottage  to 
shield  her  from  the  weather.  The  revulsion  of  feeling 
was  great,  and  Fanny's  face  was  radiant  with  happiness, 
when  Mrs.  Prescott  appeared  suddenly  in  the  door. 

With  a  mother's  intuition  Mrs.  Prescott  had  foreseen 
the  probable  result  of  Roy's  intimacy  with  her  daughter, 
and  nothing  could  please  her  more  than  to  see  Fanny 


MRS.   PRESCOTT.  243 

his  wife  and  connected  with  the  Mason  family.  Con 
sequently  when  she  entered  the  room  and  saw  Fanny's 
confusion  and  Roy's  exultation  she  guessed  the  truth 
and  was  prepared  to  hear  all  Roy  had  to  say,  as  in  a 
straight-forward,  manly  way  he  told  her  what  his  wishes 
were  and  asked  her  consent. 

"Has  she  told  you  everything?"  Mrs.  Prescott  said. 
"Your  parents  know  it  all,  of  course.  They  were  a  part 
of  the  drama  played  that  summer  which  seems  to  me 
ages  ago.  Nor  can  I  realize  that  I  am  the  person  who 
was  guilty  of  that  heartless  escapade." 

She  was  thinking  of  Craig  Mason,  while  Fanny,  who 
knew  nothing  of  that  page  in  her  mother's  life,  thought 
only  of  her  father,  and  said,  "Oh,  mother,  you  are  not 
sorry  you  married  my  father?  You  can't  be,  if  you  love 
me.  Where  would  I  have  been  if  you  hadn't  married 
him  ?  He  was  nice,  I  know  he  was." 

The  brave  little  girl,  who  was  righting  down  all  her 
pride  of  family  and  birth,  would  be  loyal  to  the  father 
she  had  never  known  and  it  touched  her  mother  closely. 

"I  was  thinking  of  the  way  I  married  him,"  she  said, 
sitting  down  by  Fanny  and  smoothing  her  hair,  which 
was  still  a  good  deal  disordered  from  contact  with  Roy's 
buttons  and  coatsleeves.  "One  always  regrets  the  fool 
ishness  of  youth  which  might  have  been  avoided." 

Turning  now  to  Roy  she  continued,  "When  I  married 
Judge  Prescott  it  was  his  wish  that  Fanny  should  take 
his  name,  and  mine  to  forget  the  past  so  far  as  possible. 
Your  parents  were  abroad,  but  I  wrote  asking  them  to 
be  reticent  on  the  matter." 

"And  they  have  been,"  Roy  answered  quickly.  "I 
never  heard  of  Mr.  Hilton  until  to-day ;  nor  of  his  grand 
mother;  nor  do  I  care  how  many  he  had,  nor  how  they 
died.  I  dare  say  half  of  mine  ought  to  have  been  hung, 


244  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

if  the  truth  were  known.  That  has  nothing  to  do  with 
my  love  for  Fanny.  I  want  her,  and  right  off,  too, — • 
the  sooner  the  better.  Father  and  mother  knew  my  busi 
ness  here.  I  talked  it  all  over  with  them  and  they  would 
rather  have  Fanny  for  a  daughter  than  anyone  they 
know.  When  can  I  take  her?" 

He  was  very  impetuous,  and  Mrs.  Prescott  could  not 
repress  a  sigh  as  she  looked  at  his  flushed,  eager  face 
and  remembered  her  own  youth  so  far  in  the  past. 

"You  can  have  my  daughter,"  she  said,  "but  not  yet. 
She  is  not  quite  twenty  and  you  are  only  twenty-two, 
both  children  in  experience.  You  must  wait  a  year  at 
least;  that  will  soon  pass.  I  cannot  spend  another  winter 
in  this  climate.  I  have  tried  Florida  and  do  not  like  it, 
and  have  decided  upon  California,  and  Fanny  will  go 
with  me.  In  June  or  July  we  shall  visit  the  Yosemite, 
and  when  we  return  home  it  will  be  time  to  think  of  brid 
al  festivities." 

She  was  very  firm,  as  she  usually  was  when  her  mind 
was  made  up.  All  summer  she  had  been  planning  this 
trip  to  California,  intending,  either  on  her  way  there,  or 
on  her  return,  to  visit  the  mines  in  Montana  where  Mark 
had  met  his  death.  She  would  not  like  to  admit  to  anyone 
the  great  desire  she  had  to  see  some  of  the  people  who 
had  known  him  and,  if  possible,  to  learn  what  had  be 
come  of  Jeff.  For  a  brief  space  of  time  she  had  loved  Mark 
passionately,  and  she  always  thought  of  him  now  with 
regret  for  the  bitter  things  she  had  said  to  him.  He  had 
once  told  her  there  was  in  him,  about  equally  balanced, 
the  making  of  an  angel  or  a  devil,  and  a  woman's  hand 
would  turn  the  scale.  She  had  turned  it  and  sent  him  to 
destruction,  and  the  widow's  weeds  she  wore  were  almost 
as  much  for  Mark  Hilton  as  for  the  courtly  Judge  Pres 
cott.  Sometimes  in  her  sleep  she  heard  Mark's  voice 


MRS.   PRESCOTT.  245 

calling  to  her  from  beyond  the  Rockies  and  bidding  her 
come  to  him  with  their  child.  Again  she  sat  with  him 
in  the  ghost-haunted  room  in  Ridgefield  and  promised 
to  prove  false  to  the  vows  made  to  Craig  only  the  night 
before.  On  such  occasions  she  would  wake  suddenly, 
bathed  with  perspiration  and  thank  God  it  was  all  a 
dream.  She  did  not  wish  Mark  back.  Their  paths  di 
verged  more  widely  now  than  when  they  separated.  It 
was  her  treatment  of  him  which  she  regretted,  and  her 
many  sleepless  nights  and  restless  days  had  undermined 
her  health,  until  a  change  was  necessary.  She  must  go 
to  California  and  Roy  must  wait  for  his  bride  until  an 
other  year. 

''Why  can't  I  go  with  you?  You  need  some  man  to 
take  care  of  you,  especially  in  the  Yosemite,  where  the 
brigands  are  so  thick  that  the  stages  are  stopped  every 
few  days,"  Roy  said. 

But  Mrs.  Prescott  was  not  afraid  of  the  brigands,  and 
didn't  need  a  man  as  an  escort,  and  Roy  was  compelled 
to  acquiesce  in  waiting  a  year,  which  seemed  to  him  as 
endless.  Mrs.  Prescott  promised  to  bring  Fanny  to  Bos 
ton  before  leaving  for  California,  and  with  this  to  com 
fort  him  he  left  New  York  the  following  day,  anxious  to 
carry  the  glad  news  of  his  engagement  to  his  father  and 
mother.  He  made  very  short  work  of  it. 

"I  have  asked  Fanny  to  be  my  wife,  and  she  has  con 
sented,"  he  said.  "She  is  not  Fanny  Prescott  at  all,  but 
Fanny  Hilton.  I  know  all  about  it,  'Tina  and  all,  and 
don't  care." 

Craig  and  Alice  did  not  care,  either.  To  them  it  was 
an  old  story  nearly  forgotten,  and  they  congratulated 
their  son  and  at  once  forwarded  a  letter  to  Helen  inviting 
her  and  Fanny  to  spend  Thanksgiving  with  them. 


246  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

CHAPTER  III. 

ANCESTRY. 

If  was  a  large  dinner  party  assembled  on  Thanksgiving 
day  to  do  honor  to  the  little  bride-elect,  who  bore  her 
self  with  great  dignity  when  the  engagement  was  an 
nounced  and  congratulations  heaped  upon  her  and  Roy. 
She  would  have  liked  to  have  been  known  by  her  real 
name,  Hilton,  but  her  mother  objected,  and  as  neither 
Roy  nor  his  parents  saw  the  necessity  for  the  explana 
tion  it  would  involve 'she  yielded  to  their  judgment  and 
was  Fanny  Prescott,  as  she  had  always  been.  Her  moth 
er  could  only  stay  for  a  few  days  in  Boston,  and  on  the 
morning  of  her  departure  Fanny  said  to  Roy,  who  was  to 
accompany  them,  "Let's  stop  at  Ridgefield  over  a  train. 
I  want  to  see  where  father  used  to  live.  Mother  can 
go  on  without  us.  Will  you?" 

Roy  was  willing,  and  when  the  villlage  'bus  in  Ridge- 
field  went  up  the  hill  from  the  10  o'clock  train  it  carried 
two  young  people  who  were  looking  about  them  as  cu 
riously  as  people  were  looking  at  them.  Ridgefield  had 
not  grown  much  within  twenty-three  years,  but  there 
had  been  some  changes.  An  electric  car  now  connected 
it  with  Worcester  and  the  intermediate  towns  and  this 
gave  it  a  thriftier  appearance.  A  few  houses  had  been 
added  in  the  side  streets  and  a  new  and  large  hotel  built 
on  the  Common.  In  front  of  this  the  driver  stopped, 
While  a  smart  clerk  came  hurrying  out. 

"Not  here.  Take  us  to  the  Prospect  House,"  Roy 
said. 

The  clerk  looked  surprised  as  he  turned  on  his  heel, 
while  the  driver  whipped  up  his  horses,  wondering  why 


ANCESTRY,  247 

such  swells,  as  his  passengers  undoubtedly  were,  should 
prefer  the  Prospect  House  to  the  Tremont.  But  it  was 
none  of  his  business,  and  he  was  soon  at  the  Prospect 
House,  which  looked  rather  shabby  and  uninviting,  with 
an  air  of  neglect  everywhere  visible.  The  Tremont  had 
killed  it,  and  in  his  old  age  Uncle  Zacheus  had  little 
heart  to  compete  with  his  rival.  A  few  boarders  still 
clung  to  him,  but  transients  were  very  rare,  and  when 
Roy  and  Fanny  alighted  from  the  'bus  and  came  up  the 
walk  he  was  greatly  excited  and  called  loudly  to  Dot  to 
hurry  up  as  somebody  was  coming.  His  welcome  was 
cheery,  as  of  old,  as  he  advanced  to  meet  the  young 
couple. 

"Glad  to  see  you ;  yes,  I  be.  Want  a  room  ?  For  one, 
or  two  ?  just  married,  ain't  you  ?"  he  said,  not  remember 
ing  Roy  at  all  in  his  flurry. 

"No,  oh  no !"  Fanny  exclaimed,  blushing  crimson. 
"We  are  not  married,  and  have  only  stopped  over  a  train 
to  see  where  father  used  to  live.  I  am  Mark  Hilton's 
daughter,  and  I  want  you  to  show  me  his  room  and  his 
office  and  everything,  and  then  we  are  going  to  the  cellar 
hole  and  the  grave,  and  everywhere." 

Uncle  Zacheus  was  at  first  too  astonished  to  speak  and 
stared  open-mouthed  at  the  girl  whose  blue  eyes  fasci 
nated  and  confused  him,  they  were  so  bright  and  large 
and  clear,  and  seemed  to  take  in  everything  at  once  with 
in  their  vision.  His  wife,  who  had  stopped  to  slip  on  a 
clean  white  apron  and  smooth  her  hair  before  going  to 
receive  her  guests,  now  appeared  on  the  scene,  and,  at 
sight  of  her,  Uncle  Zach  recovered  his  speech  so  far  as 
to  give  vent  to  his  usual  ejaculation.  "Wall,  I'll  be 
dumbed!  Yes,  I  will !"  he  said,  advancing  toward  Fanny 
and  offering  his  hand. 

For  an  instant  she  drew  back.     She  had  not  expected 


248  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

what  she  found.  Everything  was  so  different  from  her 
life  that  it  was  hard  to  associate  her  father  with  this  place 
and  this  queer  little  man  making  so  free  with  her.  A 
look  from  Roy  reassured  her  and  she  gave  her  hand  to 
Mr.  Taylor,  who  nearly  crushed  it  before  he  let  go  his 
hold.  Roy  was  exlplaining  now  and  talking  to  Mrs.  Tay 
lor,  who  remembered  him  having  been  there  with  his 
father  and  mother,  and  finally  succeeded  in  conveying 
that  fact  to  her  husband's  rather  hazy  mind. 

"Don't  I  remember  them  young  folks  who  was  here  a 
few  years  ago?  Wall,  I  guess  I  do,  and  this  is  their 
boy  and  girl?  I  don't  understand  it,"  he  said;  then,  as 
it  began  to  dawn  upon  him  more  clearly,  he  continued, 
addressing  himself  to  Fanny,  "I  know  now;  you  are 
Mark's  girl,  but  you  don't  look  like  him,  unless  it's  some 
trick  with  your  eyes, — nor  like  your  mother,  neither. 
Who  are  you  like,  I  wonder?" 

He  was  scanning  her  very  closely,  and  without  at  all 
considering  what  she  was  saying,  Fanny  answered  him : 
"Perhaps  I  am  like  father's  great-grandmother,  'Tina. 
Did  you  ever  see  her?" 

"Bless  my  soul,  child ;  how  old  do  you  take  me  to  be  ?" 
and  Uncle  Zach  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  "I'm  only 
eighty-three,  and  Miss  Dalton, — that's  'Tina, — has  been 
dead  a  hundred  and  twenty  years;  but  I  believe  you  are 
like  her.  They  say  she  was  han'som'  as  a  picter,  with 
blue  eyes  and  yaller  hair  and  clingin'  ways." 

Fanny  was  not  particularly  pleased  to  have  her  resem 
blance  to  'Tina  discussed,  and  Roy,  who  wished  to 
change  the  conversation,  said  abruptly,  "Can  we  go 
into  the  office  where  Mr.  Hilton  used  to  spend  his  time  ?" 

"Certainly,  and  all  over  the  house,  too,"  Mr.  Taylor 
replied,  leading  the  way  to  the  office,  where  Fanny  exam 
ined  everything  and  sat  in  every  chair  and  looked  over 


ANCESTRY.  249 

the  register  of  years  ago  which  was  brought  out  for  her 
to  see. 

Turning  back  to  the  summer  when  her  mother  was 
there  her  tears  fell  fast  on  the  yellow  page,  where  traces 
of  her  father's  handwriting  seemed  to  bring  him  near  to 
her.  Uncle  Zacheus  was  crying,  too.  He  did  a  good  deal 
of  that  in  his  old  age,  but  he  apologized  for  it  to  Fanny, 
saying,  "You  must  excuse  me.  I  always  cry  when  I 
think  of  Mark, — the  best  clerk  a  man  ever  had  in  a  hotel, 
and  when  I  heard  he  was  dead,  I  cried  myself  sick. 
Didn't  I  Dot?  And  Jeff  wasn't  mentioned  in  the  notice. 
He  ain't  dead.  No,  sir !  I'm  alwrays  expectin'  him  home. 
He'll  come  before  I  die.  Yes,  marm !  You  want  to  see 
where  your  pa  slep'  ?  You  shall ;  yes,  marm  !  but  'tain't 
no  great  of  a  place.  You  see  them  was  good  days,  with 
the  house  so  full  that  Mark  had  to  sleep  where  he  could 
catch  it,  close  to  the  office ;  here  'tis." 

He  threw  open  the  door  of  a  very  small  and  plainly  fur 
nished  room,  at  \vhich  Fanny  looked  askance,  mentally 
comparing  it  with  her  own  and  her  mother's  luxurious 
sleeping  apartments.  But  she  wouldn't  flinch,  and 
stroked  the  pillow  and  smoothed  the  patchwork  coverlet 
and  tried  hard  to  keep  her  tears  from  falling  again. 
Everything  was  so  different  from  what  her  father's  sur 
roundings  ought  to  have  been.  Even  the  saloon  her 
mother  had  occupied  and  the  pictures  of  Dot's  ancestors 
failed  to  impress  her.  Everything  was  scrupulously  clean, 
but  the  furniture  was  old,  the  carpets  were  faded,  the  pa 
per  was  dingy,  and  there  was  everywhere  an  air  from 
which  she  shrank.  Accustomed  to  every  luxury  money 
could  buy,  she  was  an  aristocrat  to  her  finger  tips,  and 
the  Prospect  House,  as  she  saw  it  on  that  November  day, 
was  not  at  all  to  her  taste. 

"Now,  let's  go  to  the  ruin  and  the  grave,"  she  said  to 


250  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

Roy,   who   shrugged   his    shoulders,    thinking   he   was 
bound  on  a  rather  gruesome  business. 

"I  shall  have  to  ask  the  way  to  both  places,  as  I  believe 
they  lie  in  different  directions,"  he  said,  and  turning  to 
Mr.  Taylor  he  began  to  make  inquiries  as  to  the  best 
way  of  reaching  the  Dalton  ruin  and  the  cemetery  and 
where  to  find  'Tina's  grave. 

"Want  to  see  that  suller?"  Uncle  Zacheus  exclaimed. 
"Why,  all  the  timbers  has  fell  in  and  there's  nothin'  left 
but  a  hole.  I  wonder  it  hain't  been  sold  afore  now, 
though  nobody  wants  it,  there's  so  much  stuff  told  to 
this  day  about  the  ghost.  They  say  she  carries  a  candle 
now.  In  my  opinion  she's  enough  to  do  repentin',  with 
out  spookin'  round  where  she  used  to  live.  I  beg  your 
pardon,  Miss  Hilton.  I  forgot  I  was  speakin'  of  your 
grandmarm,  who  lived  more  than  a  hundred  years  be 
fore  you,"  he  said  to  Fanny,  who  was  pale  to  her  lips. 

She  knew  he  meant  no  harm  and  tried  to  smile,  but  it 
was  a  pitiful  kind  of  smile,  which  made  Roy's  heart  ache 
for  her. 

"Poor  little  Fan,"  he  said,  when  they  were  out  in  the 
street.  "This  is  a  hard  day  for  you.  Hadn't  you  better 
give  up  the  ruin?" 

"No;"  she  said  resolutely.  "I  want  to  see  what  my 
father  called  his  ancestral  hall.  It  was  there  he  asked 
mother  to  marry  him.  I  made  her  tell  me  all  about  it. 
They  sat  on  an  old  settee,  and  there  were  rats  in  t'.ie  room. 
Oh,  this  must  be  where  we  turn,  and  there  is  the  curb  to 
the  well  they  threw  him  in,"  she  added,  as  they  reached 
the  lane  which  led  to  the  ruin. 

.  When  walking  through  the  village  Fanny  had  kept 
apart  from  Roy,  but  now  she  clung  closely  to  him  as 
they  went  down  the  road  till  they  came  to  what  was  once 
the  front  entrance  to  the  house,  Window  frames,  door 


ANCESTRY.  251 

posts,  heavy  joists  and  portions  of  the  roof  lay  piled  to 
gether,  with  the  dried  remnants  of  the  last  summer's 
weeds  showing  among  the  debris.  The  day  was  not  cold 
for  November,  but  the  sky  was  leaden  and  there  was  a 
feeling  of  rain  in  the  air.  The  trees  were  bare  and  the 
dead  leaves  lay  in  the  path,  or  were  piled  against  the 
fence  and  wall.  There  was  no  place  to  sit  down  and 
Fanny  would  not  have  sat  if  there  had  been.  She  was  in 
a  kind  of  dream,  going  over  in  imagination  the  events  of 
more  than  a  century  ago.  At  last  Roy  brought  her  back 
to  reality  by  kicking  at  a  part  of  what  might  have  been 
a  pier  to  the  wall  and  which,  giving  way,  went  crashing 
down  into  the  cellar. 

"What  a  pile  of  rubbish  and  what  a  place  for  'Tina 
to  promenade  !  I  don't  wonder  she  brings  a  candle.  She 
would  certainly  break  her  neck  in  the  dark  if  it  had  not 
already  been  broken,"  he  said,  without  a  thought  as  to 
how  the  last  of  his  remark  sounded. 

But  Fanny  thought,  and  with  a  plaintive  cry  said  to 
him,  "Oh,  Roy,  how  can  you  joke  about  my  grand 
mother?  You'd  feel  differently  if  she  were  yours." 

"She  is  mine,"  Roy  replied,  "or  is  going  to  be,  and 
what  I  said  about  her  neck  was  rather  mean.  Honestly, 
though,  Fan,  you  are  too  morbid  over  an  affair  which 
everybody  has  forgotten  and  for  which  you  are  in  no  way 
responsible.  Let's  get  away  from  here." 

"Wait  till  Fve  looked  in  the  well,"  Fanny  replied. 

She  went  to  the  well  and  leaning  over  the  curb  looked 
down,  shuddering  at  the  thought  of  a  human  body  strug 
gling  there  and  calling  for  help. 

"I  am  ready  now  for  the  grave,"  she  said,  when  her 
investigation  of  the  well  was  finished. 

"Must  we  go  there?"  Roy  asked,  rather  dubiously. 

"Yes,  we  must.    I  owe  it  to  father.    They  are  his  pec* 


252  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

pie  and  mine,"  Fanny  answered,  and  the  two  retraced 
their  steps  through  the  village  to  the  Prospect  House, 
where  Uncle  Zach  stood  on  the  piazza  and  said  to  them, 
"Dotty's  getting  dinner  ready  for  you  when  you  come 
back  from  the  cemetry.  Turn  to  your  right  and  foller 
close  to  the  wall  clear  down  to  the  corner.  They're  sunk 
in  some,  I  guess." 

They  found  the  graves  without  any  difficulty,  but,  as 
Mr.  Taylor  had  said,  they  were  sunken  and  neglected. 
No  one  had  cared  for  them  since  Mark  went  away.  The 
grass  around  them  was  never  cut  and  now  lay  in  dry 
clumps  upon  them.  The  rose  bush  Mark  had  planted  was 
dead  and  a  huge  burdock  stood  in  its  place.  The  head 
stones  were  weather-beaten  and  discolored,  and  that  of 
Tina  had  partially  fallen  over.  Fanny  went  down  upon 
the  ground  and  read  the  name  "Christine  Dalton."  There 
was  nothing  to  tell  where  she  was  born  or  where  she 
died,  and  in  her  nervous,  morbid  state  Fanny  found 
herself  pitying  the  woman  who  had  gone  to  her  grave 
dishonored  and  despised. 

"Nobody  ever  shed  a  tear  for  you,  I  dare  say,  but  I 
will,"  she  said,  and  sitting  upon  the  stone  where  her 
mother  had  sat  with  Mark  Hilton  when  he  told  her  the 
story  of  'Tina,  she  began  to  cry  very  low  to  herself,  so 
that  Roy  might  not  hear  and  laugh  at  her.  "Where  is 
he?"  she  said,  when  she  had  paid  sufficient  respect  to 
'Tina,  and  looking  up,  missed  him  from  her  side. 

She  saw  him  at  last  in  the  distance  standing  near  the 
monument  of  Gen.  Allen,  and  his  loud  call  came, to  her 
across  the  rows  of  graves  which  intervened. 

"I  say,  Fan,  ar'n't  you  some  connection  to  Gen.  George 
Allen,  who  served  in  the  Revolutionary  War,  was  wound 
ed  at  Bunker  Hill  and  Saratoga,  and  did  a  lot  more 
things,  and  died  regretted  by  friend  and  foe?" 


ANCESTRY.  253 

She  did  not  answer,  and  he  continued,  "Come  away 
from  that  damp,  lonesome  place.  I  got  chilly  there  my 
self.  Come  up  here  and  visit  another  ancestor,  who,  per 
haps,  wasn't  any  more  respectable  than  those  you  are 
mooning  over,  but  he  has  a  stunner  for  a  monument  and 
an  obituary  as  long  as  my  arm." 

Fanny  was  getting  tired  and  cold,  and  went  up  the 
slope  to  where  Roy  was  waiting  for  her. 

"Yes,  that  is  mother's  grandfather,"  she  said,  rather 
cheerfully,  as  she  looked  at  the  monument  and  read  the 
inscription  upon  it. 

There  was  some  difference  between  this  costly  stone 
and  well-kept  enclosure  where  a  number  of  Aliens  were 
lying  and  the  sunken,  neglected  graves  under  the  shadow 
of  the  wall,  and  Fanny  felt  the  difference,  and  her  spirits 
began  to  rise  in  the  vicinity  of  the  Aliens,  who  repre 
sented  the  aristocracy  of  the  cemetery.  Both  belonged  to 
her,  the  grand  monument  and  the  sunken  graves,  the 
Aliens  and  the  Daltons, — but  the  Aliens  were  the  near 
est  of  kin, — they  were  like  what  she  was  born  to  and  had 
been  accustomed  to  all  her  life  and  she  felt  a  thrill  of  pride 
on  reading  the  eulogy  on  her  great-grandfather,  who 
had  rendered  such  service  to  his  country  and  been  so 
highly  esteemed  by  his  fellow-citizens. 

"Good  blood  there,  of  the  bluest  kind,"  Roy  said,  teas- 
ingly.  "It  ought  to  make  amends  for  forty  'Tinas." 
Then,  as  the  shrill  whistle  from  the  shoe  -hop  came  echo 
ing  across  the  fields,  he  continued :  "Twelve  o'clock ; 
time  we  were  going,  if  you  have  seen  enough  of  your 
ancestors.  I'm  getting  hungry." 

He  was  very  practical  and  led  Fanny  so  adroitly  from 
what  he  called  "an  ancestral  fit"  that  she  was  quite  her 
self  by  the  time  they  reached  the  Prospect  House.  Mrs. 
Taylor  had  prepared  a  most  appetizing  dinner  for  them, 


254  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

which  she  served  upon  a  small  round  table  placed  near  a 
window  and  the  stove,  where  they  could  have  both 
warmth  and  light.  All  her  best  things  were  on  duty 
and  Fanny,  who  found  the  dinner  excellent,  began  to 
change  her  mind  with  regard  to  the  hotel.  In  the  sum 
mer  it  must  be  very  pleasant,  especially  on  the  broad 
piazzas,  and  perhaps  she  should  come  again,  she  said  to 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Taylor,  as  she  bade  them  good  bye. 

"Bless  you,  child,  I  hope  you  will,"  Uncle  Zacheus  re 
plied,  holding  her  hand  and  trying  to  keep  back  his  tears 
which  his  wife  told  him  he  needn't  shed  so  often  unless 
he  had  softening  of  the  brain,  of  which  they  were  signs. 
"It  is  good  for  my  old  eyes  to  see  young  people.  There 
don't  many  come  since  they  built  the  big  stone  tavern 
on  the  Common.  I  began  to  run  down  when  Mark 
went  away.  A  good  feller,  that,  and  I  cry  when  I 
think  of  him  dead.  I  can't  help  it  if  'tis  sign  of  sofFnin'. 
I  remember  the  old  days  when  Mark  and  your  mother 
and  this  young  man's  father  and  mother  was  here  and 
the  house  was  full  of  young  voices  and  courtin'  and 
love-makin'  from  mornin'  till  night.  Your  young  man, 
— I  know  he  is  yourn  by  the  way  he  looks  at  you, — has  a 
good  face  like  his  father  and  mother.  You'll  be  happy 
with  him,  and  he'll  be  happy  with  you.  Your  face  ain't 
like  nobody's,  but  makes  me  think  of  some  flower  that 
is  ever  so  sweet  and  lovely  and  modest, — I  can't  remem 
ber  the  name.  'Tain't  a  rose,  nor  a  pink,  nor  a  piney." 

Roy  laughed,  and  suggested,  "Lily  of  the  Valley." 

"I  swan,  that's  it.  Lily  of  the  Valley,"  Uncle  Zach 
returned,  and  continued,  "I  s'pose  I  must  say  good  bye 
and  God  bless  you  and  make  you  happy.  Good  bye." 

He  turned  to  leave  them,  when  Fanny  took  his  hand 
again, — the  one  her  mother  had  kissed  years  ago. — and 
pressed  her  lips  upon  it  just  as  Helen  had  done. 


ANCESTRY.  255 

"I'll  surely  come  again,"  she  said,  and  then  hurried 
away,  for  it  was  getting  near  train  time  and  they  were 
going  to  walk. 

That  kiss  was  too  much  for  Uncle  Zach.  Softening 
of  the  brain  or  no  softening  of  the  brain  he  must  cry, 
and  he  did,  while  his  wife  derided  him  for  his  weakness. 

"I  shall  cry  if  I  want  to,"  he  said,  evincing  considerable 
spirit  for  him.  "I  never  told  you  of  it,  but  her  mother 
kissed  my  hand  three  and  twenty  years  ago  when  she 
went  away  and  I've  never  seen  her  since,  and  never  shall, 
nor  this  little  girl,  neither.  She  will  come,  maybe,  but  I 
shan't  be  here.  I'm  wearin'  out.  There's  more  ails  me 
than  sofnin'  of  the  brain.  I'm  old, — most  eighty-four. 
I'm  slippin'  away  from  you,  Dotty,  and  from  the  places  I 
love  so  well." 

Here  his  feelings  so  overcame  him  that  he  cried  like 
a  child,  while  his  wife,  touched  by  the  sight  of  his  tears, 
tried  to  comfort  him. 

"No  you  ain't  slippin'  away,"  she  said.  "You'll  see 
'em  again.  You  are  good  for  ten  years  more,  and  so 
am  I,  and  I  am  seventy-eight.  Wipe  up,  there's  somebody 
comin'." 

He  wiped  up,  and  under  the  combined  effects  of  a 
traveller  who  wanted  dinner  and  Dotty's  assurance  of  ten 
years  longer  lease  of  life  he  was  quite  cheerful  until  he 
heard  the  rumble  of  the  train  which  was  to  take  Roy  and 
Fanny.away.  Then  a  sense  of  loneliness  came  over  him 
again  and  he  kept  whispering  to  himself,  "Good  bye, 
good  bye,  Mark's  gal  and  Craig's  boy.  I  shall  never 
see  you  again.  Good  bye." 


256  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

INEZ. 

MRS.  PRESCOTT  had  spent  the  winter  in  Southern  Cali 
fornia,  and  some  time  in  April  was  registered  at  the  Pal 
ace  Hotel  in  San  Francisco,  with  her  daughter  and  maid. 
As  her  meals  were  served  in  her  private  parlor  and  she 
seldom  stopped  in  the  public  reception  room,  she  saw 
none  of  the  guests  of  the  house,  except  a  few  New  York 
ers  who  were  stopping  there.  Fanny,  on  the  contrary, 
saw  everybody,  and  flitted  through  the  hotel  like  a  sun 
beam,  with  a  pleasant  word  for  those  she  knew  and  a 
smile  for  those  she  did  not  know.  Her  mother  some 
times  tried  to  restrain  her  from  being  so  free  with  people, 
telling  her  that  since  she  had  heard  of  the  circumstances 
of  her  birth  she  had  developed  a  most  plebeian  taste. 

"If  I  have  it  tastes  good,"  Fanny  would  answer,  laugh 
ingly,  "and  I  am  a  great  deal  happier  in  liking  people 
and  having  them  like  me  than  I  was  when  I  felt  that  the 
world  was  made  for  me  and  only  a  select  few  had  a  right 
to  share  it  with  me." 

She  was  very  happy  and  enjoyed  everything  thor 
oughly.  Time  was  passing  and  only  a  few  months  re 
mained  before  her  return  to  Roy,  who  wrote  her  nearly 
every  day.  In  his  last  letter  he  told  her  he  had  been 
to  Ridgefield. 

"I  was  in  Worcester,"  he  wrote,  "and  I  took  the  elec 
tric,  for  I  wanted  to  see  Uncle  Zach  again.  He  is  a 
case,  isn't  he?  He  had  the  rheumatism  and  can  scarcely 
walk.  Poor  old  man !  He  cried  when  he  spoke  of  the 
days  when  our  parents  were  there  making  love  to  each 
other.  He  was  quite  poetic  in  his  lamentations.  'No 


INEZ.  257 

more  matin'  of  birds,  here,'  he  said.  They've  all  flew  off 
to  the  Tremont  House,  leavin'  me  nothin'  but  some  dum 
English  sparrers.'  He  talked  a  great  deal  of  your  father 
and  a  boy  Jeff.  Said  he  didn't  believe  he  was  dead,  and 
he  should  be  perfectly  happy  if  he  were  with  him  again, 
turnin'  summersaults !  That  would  be  funny,  as  Jeff,  if 
living,  must  be  over  thirty.  Of  course  I  visited  your 
property,  which,  if  possible,  looks  more  dilapidated  than 
when  we  were  there  last  November.  It  has  quite  a  fas 
cination  for  tiie,  and  I  really  mean,  with  your  permission, 
and  your  mother's,  to  build  a  cottage  there,  where  we  can 
spend  a  few  weeks  every  summer. 

"When  do  you  go  to  the  Yosemite  ?  Do  you  know 
I  have  a  queer  feeling  about  that  trip  and  am  half  in 
clined  to  take  it  with  you.  I  have  just  seen  a  chap  who 
two  years  ago  last  summer  was  waylaid  by  robbers.  He 
says  it's  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  the  stage  to  be 
stopped.  His  experience  was  a  bad  one.  Two  ladies 
fainted  from  sheer  fright  and  one  of  them  was  robbed 
while  unconscious.  A  strange  feature  of  this  robbery 
was  that  the  watch  taken  from  the  fainting  woman  and 
which  had  her  name  engraved  upon  it  was  sent  to  her  by 
mail  to  the  hotel  where  she  was  stopping.  Most  of  the 
money  taken  was  also  returned  to  the  owners  who  could 
least  afford  to  lose  it.  A  queer  thing  for  marauders  to 
do,  and  shows  that  they  are  habitues  of  the  neighborhood 
and  have  facilities  for  learning  the  names  and  position 
of  those  whom  they  plunder.  I  hope  you  will  not  meet 
with  an  adventure  of  this  kind." 

On  the  morning  when  Fanny  received  this  letter  she 
was  sitting  by  the  window  of  one  of  the  parlors  in  the 
hotel,  reading  it  a  second  time,  and  feeling  a  little  nervous 
with  regard  to  the  stage  robberies  of  which  she  had  heard 
something  in  San  Francisco.  A  Firemen's  Parade  was 


258  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

passing,  with  all  the  paraphernalia  of  bands  and  hose 
carts  and  boys  and  a  crowd  generally,  but  she  paid  no 
attention  to  it  until  a  clear,  musical  voice,  with  a  slight 
accent,  said  to  her,  "Pretty,  isn't  it,  Miss  Prescott;  and 
isn't  father  grand  in  his  new  suit?  That's  he, — the  tall 
man  who  bowed  to  me  when  I  kissed  my  hand  to  him. 
He  is  foreman  of  one  of  the  companies." 

Surprised  at  being  so  familiarly  addressed  by  a 
stranger,  Fanny  looked  up  and  saw  standing  by  the  next 
window  a  young  gir.1  whom  she  had  seen  several  times  in 
the  halls  and  corridors  and  wondered  who  she  was.  She 
was  tall  and  well  proportioned.  Her  features  were  reg 
ular,  her  eyes  dark  and  lustrous  and  veiled  under  very 
long  lashes  and  surmounted  by  heavy  brows  which  made 
them  seem  darker  than  they  were.  Her  complexion  was 
a  rich  olive,  telling  of  a  southern  sun  which  must  have 
warmed  the  blood  of  one  or  both  of  her  parents.  There 
was  nothing  impertinent  in  her  manner.  It  was  simply 
friendly,  and  Fanny,  who  was  longing  for  some  young 
person  to  speak  to,  answered  pleasantly,  "How  did  you 
know  my  name?" 

"Oh,  everybody  knows  that,"  the  girl  replied,  "and  if 
they  didn't  they  have  only  to  look  on  the  register.  I  saw 
you  the  day  you  came  and  have  watched  you  ever  since 
when  I  had  a  chance  and  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  so 
badly.  I  don't  know  why,  only  I  did.  It  seemed  to  me 
I  should  like  you,  and  I  know  so  few  young  girls.  Per 
haps  I  ought  not  to  have  spoken  to  you,  but  you  don't 
mind,  do  you  ?" 

She  was  so  frank  and  unsophisticated  and  her  face  was 
so  pretty  and  pleasant  that  Fanny  had  no  thought  of  be 
ing  offended.  She  had  been  told  by  her  mother  never  to 
talk  with  strangers  and  especially  to  the  class  to  which 
this  girl  belonged.  But  Fanny  usually  talked  to  whom 


INEZ.  259 

she  pleased  and  as  she  attracted  this  strange  girl  so  the 
girl  attracted  and  fascinated  her. 

"Sit  down,  please,  and  tell  me  your  name,  inasmuch  as 
you  know  mine,"  she  said. 

The  girl  sat  down  and  folded  her  hands  just  as  Fanny 
had  a  trick  of  folding  hers.  There  was  this  difference, 
however, — the  girl's  hands  were  large  and  brown, — help 
ful  hands,  used  to  toil, — while  Fanny's  were  soft  and 
white  and  dimpled  like  a  baby's.  The  girl  was  not  at 
all  averse  to  talking  of  herself  and  said,  "I  am  Inez  Ray- 
bourne.  My  father  is  an  American.  My  mother  was  half 
Mexican,  half  Spanish, — with  a  little  Gypsy  blood  in  her. 
She  used  to  call  me  Gypsy  because  I  love  the  mountains 
and  rocks  and  woods  so  much.  Father  married  her  near 
Santa  Barbara,  and  her  name  was  Anita.  Isn't  that  a 
pretty  name?" 

Fanny  said  it  was,  and  Inez  went  on :  "She  was  a  little 
bit  of  a  body  whom  father  could  take  up  and  set  on  his 
shoulder.  He  is  big  and  tall,  and  I  am  big,  too.  I  wish 
I  was  small  like  mother  and  you.  Mother  is  dead,  and 
I  have  been  so  lonely  since  she  died." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears  which  hung  on  her  lashes 
as  she  continued :  "Our  home  is  in  the  Yosemite,  not  far 
from  Inspiration  Point,  and  perched  on  the  hillside  above 
the  stage  road,  with  a  lovely  view  of  the  valley  and  the 
mountains.  We  call  it  Prospect  Cottage  and  in  winter 
we  shut  it  up  and  come  to  the  city.  Before  mother  died 
we  went  sometimes  to  Santa  Barbara,  sometimes  to  Los 
Angeles.  Now  we  come  here  and  I  help  the  housekeeper 
in  part  payment  for  my  board.  Father  helps  round  the 
hotel,  and  Tom,  too,  when  he  is  here." 

"Who  is  Tom?"  Fanny  asked,  and  Inez  replied,  "Oh, 
he  is  Tom  and  has  lived  with  us  since  I  can  remember, 
and  is  like  a  son  to  father.  In  the  summer,  when  the 


26o  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

hotels  in  the  valley  are  full  of  visitors,  they  sometimes  go 
on  trails  as  guides  with  the  people.  Again  they  are  off 
on  some  business,  seeing  to  exchange  of  property,  which 
keeps  them  away  for  days.  Then  I  am  so  lonesome  and 
afraid,  too,  if  there  is  a  robbery  on  the  road.  I  have  a 
splendid  dog,  Nero,  to  take  care  of  me.  He  is  young, 
but  very  large.  He  is  here  with  us.  Maybe  you  have  no 
ticed  him  lying  in  the  office  or  the  hall." 

Fanny  had  seen  a  big  dog  around  the  hotel  and  had 
patted  his  head,  for  she  was  fond  of  dogs,  but  she  was 
more  interested  now  in  what  Inez  said  of  a  robbery. 

"Do  you  mean  stage  robberies,  and  are  they  of  fre 
quent  occurrence?"  she  asked. 

"Sometimes,  and  sometimes  not,"  was  Inez's  answer. 
"There  was  a  dreadful  one  just  before  mother  died,  and 
I  think  the  fright  killed  her.  She  had  heart  trouble  and 
was  here  to-day,  gone  to-morrow.  We  were  alone,  and 
when  the  stage  passed  in  the  afternoon  a  neighbor  who 
was  on  it  came  and  told  us  how  dreadful  it  was,  with  two 
ladies  fainting  and  children  crying  and  the  highwaymen 
taking  the  watch  of  the  woman  who  lay  like  one  dead. 
He  sent  it  back  to  her  at  the  hotel,  and  the  money  to  the 
others.  Wasn't  that  queer?" 

Fanny  was  thinking  of  what  Roy  had  written  her  and 
exclaimed,  "I  have  heard  of  that." 

"You  have !"  Inez  rejoined.  "Well,  the  papers  were 
full  of  it,  and  people  were  determined  to  catch  the  men,  if 
possible.  Mother  was  very  nervous  over  it,  but  I  never 
thought  of  her  dying.  We  always  said  our  prayers  to 
gether,  and  that  night  she  prayed  that  the  men  might  be 
caught  and  the  wicked  work  stopped.  She  seemed  the 
same  when  she  kissed  me  good  night,  but  when  I  went 
into  her  room  in  the  morning  she  could  not  speak. 
Father  had  come  home  late  and  was  caring  for  her,  rub- 


INEZ.  261 

bing  her  hands  and  arms,  which  had  in  them  no  power 
to  move.  'Was  it  the  fright  of  the  robbery?'  I  said  to 
father,  who  nodded,  while  she  tried  to  speak  and  her 
eyes  followed  him  in  such  a  beseeching  way.  'Do  you 
want  to  tell  us  something?'  I  said.  She  nodded  and  made 
a  motion  to  write.  I  brought  her  pencil  and  paper,  but 
her  nerveless  hands  could  not  hold  the  pencil  and  she 
died  looking  up  at  father  so  pitifully.  He  was  so  tender 
and  kind  to  her,  and  cried  over  her  like  a  baby,  and 
himself  put  her  in  the  coffin.  It  was  such  a  little  coffin  I 
didn't  realize  till  I  saw  it  how  small  she  was.  We  buried 
her  on  the  hill  back  of  our  house  where  the  light  from 
our  windows  can  shine  upon  her  grave  when  we  are 
there  in  the  summer.  In  the  winter  it  must  be  awful  with 
the  snow  piled  so  high  and  all  of  us  gone.  Father  was 
almost  crazy  for  a  while  and  walked  the  floor  and  sat 
by  her  grave  and  wouldn't  eat.  He  staid  home  the  rest 
of  the  season  and  Tom  staid,  too,  most  of  the  time. 
There  were  no  more  stages  robbed  that  summer,  and 
not  many  last  summer ;  three  or  four  at  the  most,  and  it 
so  happens  that  I  am  always  alone  with  Nero.  Of 
course  no  harm  can  come  to  me  but  I  feel  nervous  just 
the  same." 

Inez  was  talking  very  earnestly  and  rapidly,  and  her 
language  was  so  good  that  Fanny  felt  sure  she  must 
have  had  better  advantages  than  were  to  be  had  among 
the  mountains  and  asked  her  at  last  where  she  was  edu 
cated. 

"I  am  not  educated  as  you  are,"  Inez  replied.  'T  was 
at  school  in  Stockton  two  years  and  have  been  to  school 
winters  in  Santa  Barbara  and  here.  The  rest  I  learned 
from  father  and  mother.  She  had  been  in  a  convent  and 
taught  me  Spanish ; — that  was  her  language.  She  spoke 
English  brokenly,  but  so  prettily.  Tom  brings  me  books 


262  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

to  read  and  I  know  all  about  the  east  where  father  is  to 
take  me  some  day  when  we  are  able  to  stop  at  first-class 
hotels  as  guests.  I  am  afraid,  though,  it  will  be  a  long 
time  before  we  go.  Father's  business  is  not  always  very 
good." 

"What  did  you  say  it  was?"  Fanny  asked,  and  Inez 
replied,  "Exchange  of  property.  I  don't  know  what  that 
means,  exactly,  and  when  I  asked  Tom  he  said  I  hadn't 
brain  enough  to  understand  it,  if  he  explained.  He  likes 
to  tease  me." 

There  was  beginning  to  dawn  upon  Fanny  a  suspicion 
of  the  relation  in  which  Tom  stood  to  Inez,  but  she 

% 

made  no  comment,  and  Inez  continued:  "I  wish  you 
knew  father,  he  is  so  handsome  for  a  man  nearly  fifty, 
and  so  kind  to  everybody.  They  worship  him  in  the 
Yosemite  and  depend  upon  him  a  great  deal.  When  a 
stage  has  been  robbed  he  always  gives  his  services  to  find 
the  robbers.  They  have  caught  one  or  two  who  are  in 
prison  now,  but  they  can  get  no  clew  to  the  men  who 
have  been  such  a  terror  to  the  neighborhood." 

"Oh,"  Fanny  gasped,  "you  frighten  me  so.  Mother 
and  I  are  going  to  the  Yosemite  in  June  and  I  should 
die  if  the  stage  I  was  in  was  stopped." 

"I  shouldn't,"  Inez  replied.  "I  have  been  on  the  road 
with  father  a  good  many  times  and  nothing  happened, 
but  if  there  did  I  shouldn't  be  afraid.  I'd  fly  at  the  rob 
ber  and  try  to  kill  him.  Father  laughs  when  I  talk  that 
way  and  says  there  is  murder  in  my  Gypsy  blood.  Per 
haps  there  is.  Any  way  I  would  not  hesitate  to  kill  a 
man  who  was  robbing  a  coach.  I'd  shoot  him  like  a 
dog." 

Her  mood  had  changed  as  she  talked.  The  softness 
had  left  her  eyes  which  blazed  and  flashed  defiantly,  and 


INEZ  263 

she  took  a  turn  or  two  across  the  room  as  if  she  were 
in  fancy  battling  with  some  desperado. 

"Don't  look  so  fierce.  You  scare  me,"  Fanny  said, 
when  Inez  came  back  and  resumed  her  chair. 

"Do  I  ?  I  cannot  tell  you  how  I  feel  when  I  think  of 
the  bandits  who  make  our  beautiful  valley  a  dread  to 
tourists  who  visit  it.  But  they  may  not  be  there  at  all 
this  slimmer.  Don't  worry  about  them.  Leave  your  val 
uables  here,  especially  your  diamonds,  if  you  have  any. 
Then,  if  you  are  held  up  you  have  not  so  much  to  lose. 
If  I  knew  when  you  were  coming  I  believe  I'd  meet  you 
in  Milton,  where  you  take  the  stage,  or  have  father  do  it. 
He  isn't  afraid.  He  goes  home  to-morrow  or  next  diy. 
Tom  has  already  gone.  I  go  in  two  or  three  weeks.  You 
must  come  to  our  cottage.  It  is  lovely." 

Inez's  face  was  a  very  changeable  one,  now  grave  and 
serious  and  sad,  then  sunny  and  sweet,  with  a  smile  which 
changed  its  whole  expression.  Like  most  communi 
cative  people  she  was  very  inquisitive,  and  having  told 
all  there  was  to  tell  about  herself  she  asked  Fanny  about 
herself,  her  home  in  New  York,  and  how  old  she  was. 
"I  am  seventeen,"  she  said. 

"And  I  am  twenty.  I  thought  you  older,"  Fanny  re 
plied,  in  some  surprise. 

"So  does  every  one,  because  I  am  so  tall  and  big,  like 
my  father.  Where  is  your  father?"  Inez  asked. 

"He  is  dead,"  Fanny  replied,  thinking  of  both  Mark 
Hilton  and  Judge  Prescott. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  sorry  for  you  ;  but  you  have  a  mother, 
and  mine  is  lying  among  the  hills,"  Inez  said,  beginning 
to  talk  again  of  her  home  and  her  hope  that  Fanny 
would  visit  her  when  she  came  to  the  valley.  "You 
must,"  she  continued.  "I  want  you  to  see  our  cottage 
and  mother's  grave,  and  father  and  Nero  and  everything. 


264  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

If  you  will  let  me  see  your  mother  I  will  ask  her  for  you. 
People  nearly  always  do  what  I  wish  them  to." 

Fanny  could  not  promise  for  her  mother.  To  her 
Inez  was  a  frank,  simple-hearted  girl,  a  Uttle  too  forward, 
perhaps,  but  this  came  of  her  surrounding  circumstances 
and  not  from  any  innate  ill-breeding.  Mrs.  Prescott 
would  probably  think  differently. 

"Mother  is  something  of  an  invalid  and  does  not  usu 
ally  see  strangers,  but  I  will  tell  her  of  you,"  Fanny  said, 
and  as  a  maid  just  then  came  to  say  lunch  was  ready  she 
bade  her  good  morning  and  left  the  parlor. 

The  acquaintance  thus  begun  ripened  into  intimacy  as 
the  days  went  by,  and  the  two  girls  saw  each  other  often. 
Mistress  and  maid,  a  casual  observer  might  have  thought 
them,  they  were  so  unlike ;  the  one,  slight  and  fair  as  a 
lily  and  clad  in  garments  of  the  latest  style,  with  every 
mark  of  culture  and  refinement;  the  other,  tall  and 
strongly  built,  with  a  freedom  of  manner  which  betok 
ened  a  child  of  the  mountains  rather  than  of  the  city,  and 
a  face  singular  in  its  beauty,  and  eyes  wonderful  in  their 
varying  expression,  from  a  softness  under  their  veiled 
lids,  amounting  almost  to  sleepiness,  to  gleams  of  passion 
which  told  of  a  strong  nature  wrhich,  when  aroused,  was 
equal  to  acts  of  daring  from  which  Fanny  in  her  timidity 
would  have  shrunk  appalled.  Inez  took  Fanny  on  fre 
quent  walks  through  the  city  which  she  knew  so  well  and 
where  so  many  seemed  to  know  her.  At  first  Mrs.  Pres 
cott  objected  to  her  daughter's  intimacy  with  one  who, 
in  her  estimation,  was  little  more  than  a  peasant  girl. 
But  Fanny  was  not  to  be  shaken  from  her  allegiance, 
and  after  some  inquiries  of  the  housekeeper  with  regard 
to  Inez  Mrs.  Prescott  ceased  to  object  to  Fanny's  being 
so  much  with  her. 


INEZ.  265 

"But  don't  bring  her  in  here.  Why  should  I  see  her?" 
she  said,  when  Fanny  asked  that  Inez  might  be  presented. 

"Because  I  want  you  know  her,  and  see  if  you  can 
tell  what  makes  me  feel  so  when  I  am  with  her." 

"Bring  her,  then,"  Mrs.  Prescott  said,  one  day,  "but 
don't  let  her  stay  long.  My  head  aches  and  I  am  tired." 

That  afternoon  Fanny  went  out  with  her  maid  on  an 
errand,  saying  to  Inez  as  she  left  the  hotel,  "When  I 
come  back  I  ani  going  to  take  you  to  mother." 

For  a  while  Inez  waited  patiently,  watching  for  Fan 
ny's  return.  To  call  upon  Mrs.  Prescott  was  a  great 
event  in  her  life  and  something  of  which  to  tell  her 
father  and  Tom  when  she  got  home.  In  the  house 
keeper's  room  and  from  the  servants  and  some  of  the 
guests  whom  she  knew,  she  had  heard  a  great  deal  of 
Mrs.  Prescott,  who  was  said  to  be  fabulously  wealthy, 
and  had  such  costly  diamonds  and  wore  such  pretty 
negligees  in  the  morning  and  such  beautiful  dresses  to 
dinner,  although  there  was  no  one  but  her  daughter 
at  table  with  her.  Occasionally  she  had  caught  a  glimpse 
of  the  lady  on  the  rare  occasions  when  she  went  to  drive, 
but  she  was  always  so  closely  veiled  that  it  \v:_ ;  impos 
sible  to  tell  how  she  looked.  Now,  however,  Inez  was 
to  see  her,  and  she  grew  very  impatient  at  Fanny's  pro 
tracted  absence. 

"Maybe  she  has  come  and  I  didn't  know  it.  I  mean  to 
go  up  and  see,"  she  thought,  as  the  clock  struck  four  and 
there  was  no  sign  of  Fanny. 

Going  up  to  Mrs.  Prescott's  rooms  she  stole  softly  to 
the  door,  which  was  partly  open.  Fanny  was  not  there, 
but  she  heard  a  sound  as  of  some  one  in  pain.  Mrs.  Pres 
cott  had  complained  of  a  headache  all  day  and  after 
Fanny  and  her  maid  went  out  it  grew  so  much  worse  that 
she  dropped  the  shades  and  lay  down  upon  the  couch, 


266  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

hoping  to  sleep.  But  the  pain  which  was  of  a  neural 
gic  nature  increased  so  fast  that  she  at  last  uttered  the 
moan  which  Inez  heard.  Her  first  impulse  was  to  go  in 
at  once ;  then,  knowing  this  was  not  the  thing  to  do,  she 
knocked  twice  and  receiving  no  answer  ventured  in. 
Mrs.  Prescott,  who  was  lying  with  her  eyes  closed,  did 
not  know  she  was  there  until  she  said,  "Are  you  sick, 
and  can  I  do  anything  for  you  ?" 

The  voice  was  singularly  sweet,  with  a  tone  in  it  which 
brought  to  Mrs.  Prescott's  mind  vague  memories  of 
woods  and  hills  and  sunshine  on  a  river  and  pond  where 
the  white  lilies  grew  and  where  in  her  giddiness  and  pain 
she  seemed  for  a  moment  to  be  sailing  away  into  the 
shadow  of  the  willows  which  drooped  over  the  water. 
Just  where  the  woods  and  hills  and  river  were  was  not 
clear  to  her,  and  the  picture  passed  as  soon  as  it  came. 
Looking  up  she  saw  a  young  girl  standing  by  her  couch, 
plainly  attired  in  a  gingham  dress  and  white  apron,  with 
a  fancy  silk  handkerchief  knotted  around  her  neck. 

"One  of  the  chambermaids,"  she  thought  and  an 
swered  "There's  nothing  you  can  do  unless  you  rub  my 
head.  It  aches  very  hard.  Are  you  on  this  floor?" 

Inez  looked  a  little  puzzled  and  replied,  "On  this 
floor?  No;  I  room  with  the  housekeeper.  I  am  Inez, — 
Miss  Prescott's  friend." 

"Oh!"  and  Mrs.  Prescott's  eyes  opened  wide  and  a 
slight  frown  contracted  her  brow  at  what  she  thought 
an  undue  familiarity. 

But  something  in  Inez's  face  disarmed  her  and  brought 
ba-ck  the  picture  of  the  woods  and  hills  and  river,  with 
herself  younger  and  happier  than  she  was  now.  Before 
she  could  reply,  Inez  continued :  "I  used  to  rub  mother's 
head  when  it  ached  and  she  said  it  helped  her.  Father 


INEZ.  267 

says  I  have  a  great  deal  of  magnetism  in  my  hands.  I 
take  it  from  him.  Let  me  try." 

She  knelt  on  the  floor  as  she  talked  and  began  to  ma 
nipulate  Mrs.  Prescott's  temples,  which  thrilled  at  once 
to  the  touch  of  her  fingers. 

"You  are  doing  me  good,"  Mrs.  Prescott  said,  lying 
very  still  while  Inez  smoothed  her  hair  and  rubbed  her 
forehead  and  talked  in  her  low,  musical  voice  of  her  dead 
mother  and  what  she  used  to  do  for  her. 

Mrs.  Prescott  listened  until  she  had  a  pretty  accurate 
knowledge  of  Anita  and  her  grave  among  the  hills  and 
the  cottage  among  the  rocks  and  Inez's  handsome  father. 
Then,  as  the  pain  in  her  head  grew  less,  there  came  over 
her  a  feeling  of  restfulness  and  quiet.  Inez's  voice  was  like 
the  murmur  of  a  brook  she  had  heard  somewhere.  The 
leafy  woods  and  hills  and  river  were  all  blended  together. 
Inez's  face,  like  something  she  had  seen  before,  looked 
at  her  through  the  mist  which  was  stealing  over  her 
senses  and  when  Fanny  came  in  she  found  her  mother 
sleeping  quietly,  with  Inez  sitting  by  her  and  fanning  her. 
After  that  Mrs.  Prescott  made  no  objection  to  her  daugh 
ter's  intimacy  with  Inez. 

"Yes,  she  is  very  nice,  with  something  charming  in 
her  voice  and  manner.  It  is  her  Spanish  blood,  I  think," 
she  said  to  Fanny,  "but,  of  course,  she  is  wholly  un 
trained  and  knows  nothing  of  the  world.  You  could  not 
have  her  for  an  associate  in  New  York,  but  here  it  does 
not  matter.  Mrs.  Ward,  the  housekeeper,  tells  me  she  is 
perfectly  correct  in  her  morals,  and  her  father  is  highly 
respectable, — rather  superior  to  his  class  which  accounts 
for  some  things  in  Inez.  I  do  not  know  that  I  shall  ob 
ject  to  your  spending  a  day  or  so  with  her  when  we  are 
in  the  Yosemite.  I  shall  try  and  secure  the  services  of 


268  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

her  father  as  guide,  if  I  go  on  any  of  the  trails.    They  say 
he  is  exceptionally  good." 

This  was  said  a  few  days  after  Inez  had  left  for  her 
mountain  home  and  Fanny  was  expressing  a  wish  to  visit 
her.  The  trip  was  planned  for  the  middle  of  June,  and 
Fanny,  who  had  become  greatly  attached  to  Inez,  was 
looking  forward  to  meeting  her  again  with  nearly  as 
much  pleasure  as  to  the  Yosemite  itself. 


CHAPTER  V. 

IN   THE   YOSEMITE. 

THE  Yosemite  stage  which  left  the  Milton  station  on 
the  afternoon  of  June  15,  18 — ,  was  full  of  passengers,  all 
eagerly  discussing  an  attempt  made  the  day  before  to 
rob  the  coach  between  China  Camp  and  Priest's.  A 
tall,  powerfully  built  fellow  had  sprung  out  from  behind 
a  clump  of  trees  as  the  stage  was  slowly  ascending  a 
long  hill,  and  ordered  the  frightened  inmates  to  hold  up 
their  hands.  This  they  did  at  once,  with  no  thought  of 
resistance,  and  he  was  about  to  relieve  them  of  whatever 
valuables  they  had  on  their  persons,  when  a  young  man 
who  was  sitting  on  the  box  with  the  driver,  sprang  to  the 
ground  and  confronting  the  ruffain  with  a  revolver  com 
pelled  him  to  retreat  and  sent  after  him  a  shot  or  two, 
which,  however,  went  wide  of  the  mark.  Mr.  Hardy,  the 
hero  of  the  exploit,  was  well  known  in  Stockton  and  the 
country  generally  and  was  among  the  passengers  that 
afternoon.  Naturally  he  was  plied  with  questions  with 
regard  to  the  incident  and  asked  how  he  dared  attack 
the  desperado. 


IN  THE   YOSEMITE.  269 

"I  don't  know  myself  how  I  dared,"  he  replied.  "It  was 
so  sudden  that  at  first  I  whispered  to  the  driver,  'Go  on ; 
lick  the  horses,  go  on !'  He  was  shaking  like  a  leaf, — 
teeth  actually  chattered.  Then  it  came  to  me  what  muffs 
we  were  to  sit  there  quietly  and  be  robbed,  and  without 
another  thought  I  sprang  at  the  man,  almost  landing  on 
his  head.  Of  the  rest  I  remember  nothing  until  my  hands 
were  being  shaken  and  women  were  crying  and  thank 
ing  me  as  their  deliverer.  I  only  wish  my  shot  had 
brought  him  down.  It  was  Long  John,  no  doubt,  and 
his  companion  is  pretty  sure  to  turn  up  soon.  I'd  like 
to  meet  him." 

He  did  not  seem  at  all  averse  to  talking,  and  the  pas 
sengers  listened  breathlessly,  conscious  of  a  feeling  of 
security  as  long  as  he  wras  with  them.  Among  those 
who  seemed  the  most  interested  and  anxious  was  Fanny 
Prescott,  who  sat  on  the  same  seat  with  the  hero,  and 
had  grown  very  pale  as  his  story  progressed. 

"Oh,  mother,"  she  said  at  last,  "what  if  that  dreadful 
man  should  attack  us !  What  should  we  do  ?  I  wish 
we  had  left  our  diamonds  in  San  Francisco.  I  don't  be 
lieve,  though,  he  could  find  them.  They  are  - 

A  touch  on  the  elbow  from  her  mother  kept  her  from 
finishing  a  remark  which  elicited  a  smile  from  her  com 
panions.  For  a  moment  Mr.  Hardy  looked  at  her  and 
then  said,  "If  your  diamonds  are  very  valuable  it  would 
have  been  wise  to  have  left  them  in  safe  keeping,  but  I 
do  not  anticipate  any  danger  on  this  trip.  The  attempt  of 
yesterday  is  too  recent  to  be  repeated  so  soon.  The 
whole  neighborhood  is  looking  for  the  robbers,  who  are 
probably  hiding  in  the  woods." 

For  the  rest  of  the  afternoon  the  conversation  was  of 
the  men  who  were  the  terror  of  the  road  between  Milton 
and  the  valley.  The  older  of  the  two  was  said  to  be  tall, 


270  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

the  other  short,  and  as  they  had  been  heard  to  address 
each  other  as  John  and  Dick,  they  were  usually  spoken 
of  as  Long  John  and  Little  Dick,  and  so  daring  and  sud 
den  were  their  movements  and  so  seldom  did  they  fail 
to  execute  their  purpose  that  the  mention  of  their  names 
was  sufficient  to  fill  the  stoutest  heart  with  fear.  Of  the 
two  Dick  was  the  one  most  dreaded.  He  was  so  rapid 
in  his  movements,  sometimes  seeming  to  spring  from  the 
ground,  again  to  drop  from  the  trees  and  leap  in  the  air 
like  an  athlete  and  doing  his  work  so  swiftly  that  the 
people  scarcely  knew  what  was  happening  until  it  was 
over  and  he  was  leaving  them.  Two  or  three  times  ef 
forts  had  been  made  to  rob  the  express  box,  but  either 
the  robbers  were  in  too  great  a  hurry,  or  the  box  had 
baffled  their  efforts,  for  the  attempt  had  been  abandoned 
and  the  attention  of  the  bandits  given  to  the  passengers. 
No  bodily  injury  had  ever  been  done  to  any  one,  and  in 
a  few  instances  when  some  woman  or  old  man  had  com 
plained  that  all  they  had  was  taken  from  them,  their 
purses  had  been  tossed  back  to  them  by  Dick,  who  would 
lift  his  hat  gracefully  and  with  a  bound  leave  as  quickly 
and  mysteriously  as  he  came.  Long  John  was  more  de 
liberate,  but  stronger,  and  that  Mr.  Hardy  single  handed 
had  put  him  to  flight  seemed  incredible,  and  he  was 
lionized  and  made  much  of,  and  the  wish  expressed  by 
the  passengers  that  he  should  go  on  to  the  valley,  as  with 
him  they  felt  secure.  At  Chinese  Camp,  where  they  were 
to  pass  the  night,  he  left  them,  with  the  assurance  that, 
judging  from  the  past  they  had  nothing  to  fear  from  the 
marauders. 

"I  wish  you  were  going  with  us.  I  feel  so  safe  with 
you,"  Fanny  said  to  him  when  she  stood  for  a  moment 
alone  with  him  in  the  narrow,  dimly  lighted  hall. 


IN   THE   YOSEMITE.  2/1 

She  was  standing  directly  under  the  hanging  lamp, 
which  showed  her  face  pale  with  anxiety  and  fear. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  he  said,  in  a  tone  such  as  he  would 
use  to  soothe  a  frightened  child.  "I  know  the  habits  of 
the  wretches,  and  would  almost  stake  my  life  against  their 
molesting  you  on  the  trip  to  the  valley.  There  may  be 
more  danger  when  you  leave  it.  Better  take  the  other  road 
to  Clarke's.  It  is  safer  and  pleasanter,  and,  one  word  of 
caution,  don't  talk  about  your  diamonds  and  where  you 
keep  them.  You  came  near  telling  in  the  coach." 

"I  know  I  did,"  Fanny  replied,  "but  I  will  remember 
in  the  future  and  I  thank  you  so  much  for  your  advice. 
Good  bye." 

She  saw  he  was  anxious  to  leave  her  and  offered  him 
her  hand,  which  looked  very  small  and  white  as  it  lay 
in  his  broad  palm.  For  an  instant  his  fingers  closed  over 
it  with  something  like  a  slight  pressure  and  his  face  was 
a  study,  as  if  two  sets  of  feelings  were  contending  in  his 
mind  with  an  equal  chance  for  the  mastery. 

Dropping  her  hand  he  said,  "Are  your  diamonds  very 
valuable  ?" 

"Yes,"  Fanny  answered  quickly.  "They  are  worth 
thousands  of  dollars  and  are  sewed  up  in  the  ribbon  bows 
of  my  hat.  I  don't  believe  they  would  think  of  looking 
there.  Do  you?" 

He  laughed  a  hearty,  ringing  laugh,  and  when  Fanny 
looked  inquiringly  at  him  he  said,  "I  beg  your  pardon. 
I  couldn't  help  it.  I  thought  you  were  not  to  tell  where 
your  diamonds  were,  and  you  have  told  me!  But,  never 
mind,  you  are  safe.  Good  bye.  I  think  we  may  meet 
again." 

He  bowed  and  left  the  hotel,  while  Fanny  joined  her 
mother  in  the  small  room  allotted  them.  There  had  been 
a,  long  discussion  between  them  as  to  the  disposition  of 


2/2  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

the  diamonds  during  their  absence  from  San  Francisco. 
Remembering  what  Inez  had  said  Fanny  wished  to  put 
them  in  a  safe  deposit  company's  vault  while  her  mother 
insisted  upon  taking  them  with  her.  She  didn't  know 
about  San  Francisco.  If  it  were  New  York  it  would 
be  different,  and  she  wanted  them  with  her.  She  was 
one  of  those  nervous  women  who  feel  that  nothing  is  safe 
unless  they  can  see  it.  Her  baggage  was  always  taken  to 
the  hotel  and  to  her  room,  if  she  was  only  to  pass  the 
night.  She  knew  then  where  it  was,  and  the  diamonds 
must  go  with  her  to  the  Yosemite.  She  had  left  most 
of  them  in  New  York  at  Tiffany's,  and  only  had  with  her 
a  small  cluster  pin,  her  rings  and  Fanny's,  and  her  large 
pear-shaped  ear-rings,— the  heirlooms  which  Mark  Hil 
ton  had  taken  with  him  when  he  left  Ridgefield  and  which 
were  to  be  Fanny's  en  her  wedding  day.  After  devising 
various  places  of  concealment,  Fanny  finally  decided  to 
sew  the  diamonds  in  the  knots  of  heavy  ribbon  on  her 
hat,  where  their  safety  could  be  ascertained  at  any  mo 
ment.  This  done,  Mrs.  Prescott  felt  quite  secure  and 
listened  composedly  to  all  that  was  said  of  the  robbers. 
She  had  only  brought  money  enough  for  the  trip,  and 
unknown  to  any  one  a  part  of  that  was  twisted  up  in  her 
back  hair.  She  had  nothing  to  lose  or  fear,  and  she 
slept  soundly  in  her  small  quarters  at  Chinese  Camp. 
Fanny,  on  the  contrary,  could  not  sleep  and  sat  by  the 
open  window  looking  out  into  the  night  starting  at  every 
sound  and  wishing  Mr.  Hardy  had  not  left  them.  She 
was  not  superstitious,  but  felt  oppressed  with  a  feeling  of 
impending  danger  and  wished  many  times  that  she  was 
safely  back  in  San  Francisco. 

At  a  very  early  hour  in  the  morning  the  stage  started, 
for  there  was  many  a  mile  of  rocks  and  hills  between  the 
Camp  and  the  valley,  and  the  sleepy  passengers  shivering 


IN   THE   YOSEMITE.  T   273 

in  the  cool  morning  air  took  their  seats,  wondering  what 
would  befall  them  before  the  day  was  over.  Nor  were 
they  in  any  degree  reassured  when,  as  they  were  ascend 
ing  a  long  hill  the  driver  suddenly  stopped  and  an 
nounced  to  them,  "This  is  where  they  had  the  holdup  and 
that  the  clump  of  trees  the  robber  was  behind." 

Involuntarily  Fanny's  hand  went  up  to  her  hat  while 
the  passengers  shrank  into  their  seats  as  if  to  escape  a 
danger.  Then,  remembering  there  was  none  they  looked 
curiously  at  the  spot  and  two  or  three  alighted  and 
walked  around  the  trees  trying  to  conjecture -just  wnere 
the  brigand  stood  before  he  made  his  appearance  at  the 
horses'  heads. 

"If  it  had  been  the  little  one  instead  of  the  big  one 
he  wouldn't  have  been  drove  off  so  easy.  I  tell  you  Dick 
is  a  terror.  Why,  they  say  he  can  jump  straight  up  and 
land  in  the  coach,  or  the  box,  either.  Must  have  been  a 
circus  rider,"  the  driver  said,  while  every  passenger 
breathed  a  prayer  to  be  delivered  from  the  terrible  Dick. 

As  long  as  they  were  in  the  open  country  they  felt  safe, 
but  the  moment  they  came  near  to  ledges  and  woods  they 
fancied  a  robber  behind  every  tree  and  rock  and  were 
glad  when  as  night  was  closing  in  they  began  to  descend 
into  the  valley  under  the  shadow  of  old  Capitan  and  into 
a  region  of  fertility  and  civilization.  As  soon  as  Mrs. 
Prescott  was  settled  in  her  small  room,  which  had  once 
been  a  bathroom,  and  in  which  she  declared  she  could 
neither  breathe  nor  sleep,  she  made  inquiries  for  Mr. 
Rayborne,  the  guide,  as  she  wished  to  secure  his  ser 
vices  for  herself  and  daughter  whenever  they  went  on 
trails : 

"That  is,  if  he  is  really  as  good  as  I  heard  he  was  in  San 
Francisco,"  she  said  to  the  landlord,  who  replied, "There's 
none  better  in  the  valley.  No,  nor  so  good  either.  You 


274  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS." 

see  he's  a  gentleman,  and  people  like  thai,  but  I  doubt  if 
he  is  home.  He  has  not  been  round  the  hotel  for  a  week. 
His  cottage  is  two  or  three  miles  from  here.  I'll  send 
and  inquire." 

"And  please,"  Fanny  began,  "will  your  messenger 
take  a  note  for  me  to  Miss  Rayborne.  Do  you  know 
her?" 

"Know  Inez !  I  rather  think  we  do/'  the  landlord 
replied.  "Everybody  knows  Inez ;  the  wild  rose  of  the 
valley,  we  call  her.  I  knew  her  mother,  too, — a  pretty 
little  woman, — went  off  like  a  flash.  Heart  trouble  they 
said.  The  whole  neighborhood  turned  out  to  her  funeral, 
visitors  and  all.  The  hill  was  black  with  'em.  John, — 
that  is  Mr.  Rayborne, — has  never  been  quite  the  same 
man  since." 

He  was  inclined  to  be  very  talkative,  but  Fanny  was  in 
a  hurry  to  write  to  Inez  and  finally  left  him  in  the  middle 
of  a  sentence.  When  the  messenger  returned  he  brought 
a  note  for  her  from  Inez,  who  wrote :  "I  am  delighted  to 
know  you  are  in  the  valley,  and  sorry  father  is  not  here  to 
guide  you  on  the  trails.  Perhaps  he  will  come  before  you 
leave.  I  am  so  lonely  with  only  Nero  for  company.  I 
thought  of  you  when  that  robbery  occurred  and  was 
glad  you  were  not  on  the  road.  I  have  something  to  tell 
you  about  it  when  I  see  you.  Father  came  home  that 
night,  but  Tom  has  not  been  here  since.  I  expect  him 
in  a  few  days.  Write  me  when  to  come  for  you.  Inez." 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  a  good  deal  disappointed  that  she. 
could  not  have  Mr.  Rayborne  for  a  guide,  and  because 
she  could  not  she  did  not  go  on  a  single  trail.  As  she 
cared  little  for  scenery  and  there  were  but  few  people  at 
the  hotel  of  what  she  called  her  set  she  was  ready  to 
leave  at  any  time. 

"Not  till  I  have  made  my  visit  to  Inez,"  Fanny  said, 


AT   PROSPECT   COTTAGE.  275 

and  after  they  had  been  at  the  hotel  a  week  it  was  ar 
ranged  that  she  should  spend  a  day  with  her  friend  and 
be  taken  up  the  next  morning  by  the  stage  which  was 
to  pass  the  cottage  and  leave  the  valley  by  way  of  In 
spiration  Point. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

AT   PROSPECT   COTTAGE. 

IT  was  one  of  the  loveliest  of  all  the  summer  days  in 
the  Yosemite  when  Inez  drove  up  to  the  hotel  in  a  buggy 
which  had  seen  a  good  deal  of  service  and  was  not  like 
anything  Fanny  had  ever  ridden  in.  But  she  did  not 
care.  She  was  delighted  to  see  Inez,  who  appeared  at 
her  best  on  her  native  heath  and  received  the  warm  greet 
ings  of  those  who  knew  her  with  the  grace  and  dignity 
of  a  young  queen.  Mrs.  Prescott  was  invited  to  accom 
pany  Fanny,  but  declined,  and  the  two  girls  set  off  alone 
for  Prospect  Cottage.  Inez  was  very  happy. 

"I  am  so  glad  to  have  this  little  bit  of  you,"  she  said, 
giving  a  squeeze  to  Fanny's  hand  and -then  dropping  it 
again.  "And  we  will  have  such  a  good  time  to-day  all 
by  ourselves.  I  haven't  much  to  do.  I.  was  up  at  four 
o'clock  to  get  my  work  done,  baking  and  all,  and  have 
made  a  lot  of  things  I  think  you  will  like.  One  is  huckle 
berry  pie." 

Fanny  had  never  seen  one,  but  was  sure  she  should 
like  it,  and  anything  else  Inez  chose  to  give  her. 

'It  won't  be  like  the  hotel,  nor  your  New  York  home," 
Inez  said,  ''I  do  everything  myself  and  oh,  isn't  it  lovely 


276  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

here  among  the  mountains  with  this  pure  air  which 
makes  me  feel  so  strong  as  if  I  should  live  forever." 

She  was  very  enthusiastic  and  Fanny,  who  also  felt 
the  invigorating  effects  of  the  atmosphere,  entered  into 
her  enthusiasm  and  enjoyed  everything,  from  the  wild 
flowers  they  stopped  to  gather,  to  the  musical  brook, 
which  went  singing  along  in  its  rocky  bed  beside  the 
carriage  road. 

"This  is  our  house,"  Inez  said  at  last,  pointing  to  a 
cottage  in  a  niche  of  the  hills  behind  some  trees  which 
partially  hid  it  from  the  highway  which  was  below  it  at 
a  little  distance. 

An  immense  dog  came  out  to  meet  them,  frisking 
about  the  buggy  and  barking  his  welcome. 

"That's  Nero.  You  saw  him  at  the  hotel,"  Inez 
said.  "I  leave  him  at  home  to  watch  the  house  when  I 
go  away.  Good  Nero,  down,  down,"  she  continued,  as 
she  alighted  from  the  buggy  and  the  dog  sprang  upon 
her,  trying  to  lick  her  face. 

"Please  go  right  in;  the  door  is  open.  I  leave  it  so, 
with  Nero.  I  mu3£  unharness  my  pony.  I'm  my  own 
chore  boy  as  well  as  maid,"  she  said  to  Fanny,  who  went 
into  the  cottage,  followed  by  Nero,  who,  stretching  him 
self  upon  the  floor,  whacked  his  big  tail  approvingly,  as 
Fanny  looked  curiously  around  the  room. 

It  was  a  model  of  neatness  and  order  and  showed 
many  touches  of  a  woman's  dainty  hand  and,  what  sur 
prised  her  a  little,  had  in  it  some  articles  of  furniture 
more  expensive  than  she  expected  to  find  among  the 
mountains.  The  wide  door  opened  upon  a  piazza  which 
commanded  a  magnificent  view  of  the  monutains  and  the 
valley  below.  A  honeysuckle  was  trained  upon  the  rus 
tic  pillars  and  a  bowl  of  roses  and  ferns  was  standing 
upon  a  round  table  near  which  were  two  or  three  chairs, 


AT   PROSPECT   COTTAGE.  277 

This  was  evidently  the  living  place  of  the  family  and 
Fanny  sat  down  in  one  of  the  chairs  to  wait  for  Inez 
who  soon  came  in  flushed  and  bright  and  eager  to  talk. 

"Yes,  we  sit  here  a  great  deal,"  she  said,  in  answer 
to  a  question  from  Fanny.  "Father  likes  a  piazza;  it 
reminds  him  of  his  youth,  he  says,  but  he  looks  so  sorry 
when  I  ask  him  about  his  youth  that  I  don't  often  do  it, 
and  I  know  very  little  of  his  boyhood.  I  asked  him  once 
if  I  had  any  relatives.  'No'  he  said,  so  short  that  I  have 
never  referred  to  them  again.  You  must  have  a  great 
many." 

"Very  few,"  Fanny  said,  and  Inez  continued :  "Has 
your  father  been  dead  long?" 

There  was  a  moment's  hesitancy  before  Fanny  replied : 
"Judge  Prescott,  who  died  last  year,  was  my  step-father, 
whose  name  I  took  when  mother  married  him.  She  was 
a  Miss  Tracy,  and  my  own  father  was  Mr.  Mark  Hilton. 
He  died  in  the  mines  of  Montana  when  I  was  a  baby.  I 
do  not  remember  him." 

"I  am  so  sorry  for  you,"  Inez  said.  "I  wish  you  could 
remember  him  a  little.  You  must  resemble  him,  as  you 
do  not  look  like  your  mother." 

Fanny  drew  a  long  breath,  and,  with  a  thought  of 
'Tina,  answered,  "I  am  like  one  of  my  grandmothers." 

Slight  as  was  her  knowledge  of  the  world  Inez's 
womanly  instinct  told  her  that  Fanny  did  not  care  to  dis 
cuss  her  family  and  she  changed  the  conversation. 

"I  am  going  to  get  dinner  now,"  she  said.  "Would 
you  like  to  see  me?  I  don't  suppose  you  ever  did  a 
stroke  of  work  in  your  life?" 

"I  never  have, — more's  the  pity,"  Fanny  said,  as  she 
followed  Inez  to  the  kitchen  and  watched  her  with  the 
greatest  interest,  offering  to  help  her. 

"Not  now,"  Inez  said.     "You  may  wipe  the  dishes 


278  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

when  dinner  is  over,  and  then  we  can  have  more  time  to 
visit." 

Fanny  wiped  the  dishes  after  the  dinner,  in  which  the 
huckleberry  pie  had  a  conspicuous  place,  and  left  its 
marks  on  her  mouth  and  teeth.  When  the  work  was 
done  there  was  a  ramble  among  the  hills,  a  visit  to  Anita's 
grave,  which  was  covered  with  flowers  and  then,  as  the 
afternoon  began  to  wane,  the  two  girls  sat  down  upon 
the  piazza,  and  watched  the  shadows  deepening  in  the 
valley  and  the  colors  changing  on  the  mountains  from 
rosy  tints  to  violet  hues,  while  the  sound  of  the  waterfalls 
in  the  distance  became  more  distinct  as  night  drew  on. 

"Isn't  the  world  beautiful?"  Inez  said,  "and  isn't  it  a 
joy  to  live.  And  yet  I  have  a  presentiment  that  I  shall 
die  young,  like  mother.  She  had  heart  trouble,  you 
know,  and  I  inherit  it  from  her.  -  A  great  shock  of  joy^or 
pain  might  kill  me.  Then  what  would  father  do, — and 
Tom." 

This  was  the  first  time  she  had  mentioned  Tom,  and 
after  a  moment  Fanny  said  affirmatively :  "You  love 
Tom?"  and  into  Inez's  eyes  there  came  a  bright,  happy 
look  as  she  replied,  "I  don't  mind  telling  you  that  I  am 
going  to  marry  him  sometime  when  he  gets  a  little  more 
ahead  and  can  leave  his  present  business.  It  was  settled 
last  winter.  He  is  a  good  deal  older  than  I  am,  but  looks 
younger  than  he  is  and  I  look  older.  Strangers  take  me 
for  twenty  at  least.  I  have  always  known  Tom  and  al 
ways  loved  him,  I  think.  I  have  sometimes  fancied  that 
father  was  not  quite  pleased.  He  has  never  said  any 
thing  except  that  Tom  >>was  too  old  for  me  and  that  I 
ought  to  see  more  of  the  world  before  marrying.  Tom 
is -my  world.  There  is  a  pretty  house  in  Stockton  which 
he  is  going  to  buy,  when  he  is  able,  where  we  can  live  in 
the  winter,  but  we  shall  come  back  here  in  the  summer." 


AT  PROSPECT  COTTAGE.  279 

"What  is  his  other  name  ?  I've  never  heard.  You  have 
always  called  him  Tom,"  Fanny  said,  and  Inez  replied, 
"Why,  Tom  Hardy.  Funny  you  didn't  know,  and  he  is 
the  one  who  kept  Long  John  from  robbing  the  coach  the 
other  day.  That  is  what  I  was  going  to  tell  you.  I  am 
so  proud  of  him.  The  papers  are  full  of  his  praises. 
Father  says  there  is  not  another  man  in  the  valley  who 
would  dare  attack  that  giant  of  a  fellow.  Tom  hasn't 
been  home  since,  and  I'm  dying  to  see  him.  I  have  felt 
nervous  every  time  I  have  thought  of  the  risk  he  ran. 
What  if  he  had  been  shot !" 

Inez's  cheek  grew  pale  as  she  thought  of  the  danger 
her  lover  had  escaped,  and  before  she  could  say  any  more 
Fanny  exclaimed,  "Is  that  Mr.  Hardy  your  Tom?  I  know 
him.  He  was  on  the  coach  with  us  from  Milton  to  Chi 
nese  camp  and  told  us  all  about  it.  I'm  glad  he  is  your 
Tom." 

Inez's  confidence  with  regard  to  Tom  reminded  Fanny 
of  Roy,  and  in  a  few  minutes  Inez  had  heard  all  about  him 
and  the  wedding  which  was  to  take  place  during  the 
holidays. 

"I  am  so  glad  for  you.  It  is  nice  to  be  engaged,"  Inez 
said;  "Mr.  Mason  is  of  course  very  different  from  Tom, 
but  I  am  satisfied  with  him,  and  I  do  hope  he  will  come 
to-night  and  father,  too.  I  think  they  will.  I  am  keeping 
supper  back  a  little  in  case  they  do,  as  they  are  always 
hungry.  What  is  it,  Nero?"  she  added,  as  the  dog  sprang 
up  in  a  listening  attitude,  and  then  darted  off  through  the 
brush  towards  the  highway.  "I  believe  he  heard  them. 
Yes,  he  did,"  Inez  cried,  as  a  peculiar  whistle,  loud  and 
clear,  sounded  in  the  direction  Nero  had  taken.  "That  is 
Tom !  He  always  whistles  to  let  me  know  he  is  coming. 
I  hope  father  is  with  him.  There  they  are  !  Hallo,  father ! 


28O  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

Hallo,  Tom!"  and  she  was  off  like  the  wind  to  meet  the 
two  men  coming  up  the  steep  path  from  the  road. 

One  was  tall  and  walked  as  if  he  were  tired,  with  his 
head  a  little  bent.  The  other  was  short  and  slight  and 
walked  with  a  quick,  springing  step,  as  if  he  never  knew 
what  fatigue  was.  He  was  dressed  differently  from  what 
he  had  been -in  the  stage  and  there  was  a  jaunty  air  about 
him  generally,  but  Fanny  would  have  had  no  trouble  in 
recognizing  him  as  the  hero  of  the  hold-up.  Inez  threw 
her  arms  around  her  father's  neck,  kissing  him  many 
times ;  then,  with  a  glance  backward  to  see  if  Fanny  were 
looking  on  she  put  up  her  lips  for  Tom  to  kiss,  and  hold 
ing  a  hand  of  each  of  the  men  came  toward  the  house, 
swinging  her  arms  and  theirs  back  and  forth  like  some 
happy  child,  while  Nero  bounded  in  front  and  barked  his 
approval. 

"Father,  this  is  Miss  Prescott,  my  friend  I  have  told 
you  so  much  about.  She  is  spending  the  day  with  me," 
she  said,  as  Fanny  came  forward  to  meet  them. 

"My  daughter's  friend  is  very  welcome,"  Mr.  Rayborne 
replied,  his  voice  so  pleasant  and  the  expression  of  his 
face  so  kind  that  Fanny  was  both  surprised  and  fasci 
nated. 

She  had  not  expected  a  guide  to  appear  just  as  he  did, 
and  she  let  her  hand  rest  in  his  a  moment,  while  she 
looked  into  his  eyes,  which  held  her  with  their  peculiar 
expression.  When  she  first  met  Inez  she  had  experienced 
a  feeling  as  of  looking  at  herself  in  a  different  guise,  and 
the  sensation  returned  to  her  in  the  presence  of  Inez's 
father.  Over  him,  too,  there  came  a  strange  feeling  of  in 
terest  as  he  looked  at  her.  She  was  not  at  all  like  Inez. 
She  belonged  to  an  entirely  different  world,  of  which  he 
was  once  a  part,  years  and  years  ago,  it  seemed,  but  which 
came  back  to  him  very  vividly  with  Fanny  Prescott  stand- 


AT   PROSPECT   COTTAGE.  28 1 

ing  beside  him.  He  was  always  gentlemanly,  but  he 
seemed  to  gain  a  new  access  of  dignity,  which  both  Tom 
and  Inez  noticed,  as  with  a  few  more  words  of  greeting 
and  a  bow  he  left  her  and  walked  into  the  house.  It 
was  Tom's  turn  now,  and  Fanny  did  not  wait  to  be  intro 
duced  to  him. 

"I  know  you  already,"  she  said,  "and  I  am  so  glad  to 
see  you  again  here,  with — 

She  glanced  at  Inez,  who  blushed  and  said,  "She  means 
here  with  me.  I've  told  her  about  us.  You  don't  care !" 

"Of  course  not;  why  should  I?"  Tom  said,  throwing 
his  arm  around  her. 

Disengaging  herself  from  him,  Inez  said  she  must  see 
about  their  supper  and  left  him  alone  with  Fanny.  He 
was  very  friendly  and  talkative;  asked  when  she  came 
to  the  cottage  and  how  she  liked  the  valley  and  when 
she  expected  to  leave.  Then  with  a  few  commonplace 
remarks  he,  too,  left  her  and  she  saw  no  more  of  him 
or  Mr.  Rayborne  until  supper  was  announced.  When 
that  was  over  they  all  repaired  to  the  piazza.,  which  a  full 
moon  was  flooding  with  light.  Nothing  had  as  yet  been 
said  of  Tom's  exploit  in  Fanny's  presence,  but  when 
alone  with  him  in  the  kitchen  Inez  had  caught  his  hand 
and  said  to  him,  "You  don't  know  how  proud  I  was  when 
I  heard  of  your  bravery.  How  did  you  dare  do  it  ?  They 
say  it  was  Long  John, — almost  twice  your  size.  Wer'n't 
you  frightened  ?" 

"A  little,  at  first,"  Tom  replied,  releasing  himself  from 
her  and  going  out  to  a  bench  near  the  kitchen  door  where 
Mr.  Rayborne  was  sitting  and  where  he,  too,  sat  down 
and  began  to  talk  in  a  low  tone. 

"He  is  so  modest  he  does  not  wish  to  hear  about  the 
hold-up,"  Inez  thought,  and  was  rather  surprised  when, 
after  they  were  seated  upon  the  piazza,  Tom  said  to 


282  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

Fanny,  "What  of  your  diamonds?  Are  they  still  in  the 
bows  of  ribbon  in  your  hat?" 

"Yes,"  Fanny  answered,  "and  I  have  sewed  them  in 
more  securely,  so  I  know  they  cannot  drop  out,  and  I 
don't  believe  anyone  would  think  to  look  for  them  there. 
Do  you?" 

"Hardly,"  Tom  said.  "It's  a  unique  hiding  place;  and 
you  leave  us  to-morrow  ?" 

"Yes,"  Fanny  answered,  "but  not  in  the  Milton  coach. 
We  are  going  to  Clark's  to  stop  a  few  days  and  visit  the 
big  trees.  You  don't  suppose  those  dreadful  robbers  will 
waylay  us  on  the  route,  do  you  ?  Long  John,  and  little 
Dick !  I  shudder  when  I  hear  them  mentioned.  I  wish 
you  were  going  with  us." 

"Can't  you  go?"  Inez  asked,  as  the  conversation  pro 
gressed  and  Fanny  became  more  and  more  nervous. 

"I  would  willingly,"  Tom  replied,  "if  I  had  not  an 
engagement,  and  besides  I  might  not  be  of  any  use  a 
second  time.  My  hands  would  probably  go  up  with  the 
rest  and  stay  up." 

"Nonsense,  Tom!  You  know  better.  You  would  tear 
at  them  like  mad.  I  wish  you'd  go.  Your  engagement 
will  keep." 

"I'm  afraid  not,  and  thousands  of  dollars  are  involved 
in  it,"  Tom  replied. 

"Oh-h !  So  much  money  ?"  Inez  gasped,  thinking  of 
the  pretty  house  in  Stockton,  which  Tom  would  soon  be 
able  to  buy,  if  he  were  getting  rich  so  fast. 

"I  do  not  think  Miss  Prescott  need  to  feel  any  alarm," 
Tom  continued.  "The  road  to  Clark's  is  perfectly  safe. 
There  are  not  as  many  rocks  and  trees  to  hide  behind, 
and  then  the  country  is  being  thoroughly  scoured  to  find 
the  maurauders.  There  is  a  larger  sum  offered  for  their 
arrest  than  ever  before." 


AT   PROSPECT   COTTAGE.  283 

"I  hope  they  will  be  caught  and  hung,"  Inez  said  ener 
getically.  "Some  people  think  they  live  right  around  us, 
and  know  every  foot  of  ground.  I  never  told  you,  did  I, 
that  Mrs.  Smithson  said  one  of  them  was  seen  in  the 
woods  back  of  our  cottage  last  summer.  You  and  father 
were  gone,  and  I  was  aw7 fully  scared.  Do  you  believe 
they  live  here  in  the  valley?  Just  think  of  talking  with 
them  and  not  knowing  it !" 

"I  shouldn't  wonder  if  you  had  seen  them  hundreds  of 
times,"  Tom  said  laughingly,  while  Mr.  Rayborne  arose 
and  went  into  the  house  saying  it  was  getting  chilly  and 
he  was  tired. 

He  had  taken  but  little  part  in  the  conversation  beyond 
assuring  Fanny  that  she  had  nothing  to  fear.  The  most 
of  the  time  he  had  sat  apart  from  the  young  people,  with 
a  look  on  his  face  which  troubled  Inez,  who  wondered 
why  he  was  so  silent. 

"Are  you  ill,  father  dear?"  she  said,  following  him  to 
the  kitchen  and  putting  her  hand -on  his  head. 

"No,  daughter,"  he  answered;  "there's  nothing  the 
matter ; — a  little  tired,  that's  all.  Go  back  to  your  friend," 

"Isn't  she  lovely?"  Inez  asked,  still  smoothing  his  hair. 
"I  wish  you  could  see  her  mother,  she  is  so  grand  and 
handsome  and  proud  looking.  She  wanted  you  for  a 
guide,  and  because  she  could  not  have  you  she  didn't  go 
on  a  single  trail.  She  had  heard  you  were  a  gentleman 
and  preferred  you  to  some  of  the  rough  guides  in  the 
valley.  I  \vish  you  had  been  here." 

Mr.  Rayborne  was  not  particularly  interested  in  Mrs. 
Prescott.  He  was  more  anxious  for  Inez  to  leave  him 
and  was  glad  when,  with  a  goodnight  kiss,  she  went  back 
to  the  piazza,  and  he  was  alone  with  his  thoughts.  He 
could  not  account  for  the  feeling  which  had  come  upon 
him,  bringing  memories  of  people  and  events  which  had 


284  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

but  little  in  common  with  what  he  was  now.  Through 
the  open  door  came  a  breath  of  wind  laden  with  the  per 
fume  of  flowers  from  Anita's  grave,  and  as  he  inhaled  it 
he  thought  of  the  dead  leaves  of  a  rose  he  had  gathered 
long  ago  and  been  foolish  enough  to  keep  through  all 
the  years  of  change  which  had  come  and  gone  since  he 
hid  them  away  in  the  first  stage  of  his  youthful  passion. 
Leaving  the  house  he  went  to  Anita's  grave  and  standing 
there  alone  with  the  dark  woods  in  the  background  and 
the  moonlight  falling  around  him  he  talked,  sometimes 
to  himself  and  sometimes  to  the  dead  at  his  feet. 

"Little  Anita,"  he  whispered,  "I  wish  I  were  lying  be 
side  you  with  all  the  past  blotted  out.  And  there  is  more 
of  that  past  than  you  ever  suspected.  I  loved  you,  Anita, 
and  when  your  dying  eyes  looked  at  me  I  knew  what 
they  said  and  swore  I  would  do  your  bidding.  But  a 
stronger  will  than  mine  has  controlled  me  until  now  when 
I  am  trying  to  break  the  bands  of  steel.  What  is  there 
in  that  girl's  face  and  voice  and  gestures  which  makes 
me  struggle  to  be  free.  Is  there  a  God,  and  would  he 
help  me  if  I  were  to  ask  him?  I  used  to  pray  in  the  old 
church,  miles  and  miles  and  miles  away  across  a  continent, 
but  I  fear  it  was  only  a  form.  God  wouldn't  have  let 
me  fall  so  far  if  he  ever  had  my  hand  in  his.  If  I  were 
to  stretch  it  out  now  would  he  take  it  and  help  me  ?" 

He  put  it  out  as  if  appealing  to  someone  for  aid;  then 
dropped  it  hopelessly  and  said,  "No,  I've  sinned  too 
deeply  for  that.  If  I  am  helped  at  all  I  must  do  it  my 
self,  and  I  swear  it  here  by  Anita's  grave  that  not  a  hair 
of  that  girl's  head  shall  be  harmed  if  I  can  prevent  it, 
and  I  think  I  can.  It  says  somewhere,  'Resist  the  devil 
and  he  will  flee  from  you,'  but  I  guess  the  one  who  said 
it  didn't  know  Tom  Hardy !" 

It  was  late  when  he  re-entered  the  house.     Inez  and 


AT  PROSPECT  COTTAGE.  285 

Fanny  had  gone  to  their  room  and  were  asleep,  but  Tom 
still  sat  on  the  piazza.,  with  his  feet  on  the  railing  and  his 
hands  clasped  behind  his  head. 

"I  knew  he'd  wait  for  me,"  Mr.  Rayborne  said,  "but 
I've  sworn,  and  I'll  keep  my  vow,  so  help  me  God." 

He  did  not  know  that  he  had  prayed  and  that  God  was 
helping  him  as  he  went  to  that  midnight  interview  with 
Tom  Hardy.  There  was  an  earnest  discussion  carried  on 
in  low  tones  lest  the  sleeping  girls  should  be  wakened. 
Then  the  discussion  became  more  spirited,  and  angry 
words  passed  on  Mr.  Rayborne's  side.  Tom  always  kept 
his  temper,  but  was  in  deadly  earnest  and  nothing  could 
move  him.  He  had  no  sentimental  feelings,  he  said,  with 
regard  to  a  white  faced,  blue  eyed  girl,  whom  neither  of 
them  had  either  seen  or  heard  of  before,  and  did  not  pro 
pose  to  let  a  fortune  slip  through  his  fingers  on  her 
account.  He  had  made  inquiries  and  there  had  seldom 
been  a  richer  party  leaving  the  valley  than  was  to  leave 
on  the  morrow.  If  Mr.  Rayborne  did  not  choose  to  join 
him  he  would  go  alone. 

"And  if  you  do,"  Mr.  Rayborne  replied,  "by  the  old 
Harry  I'll  circumvent  you  if  I  can,  and  if  I  can't  and  you 
succeed  I'll  give  both  of  us  up  to  justice  and  end  this 
accursed  life  into  which  I  allowed  you  to  lead  me." 

Tom  laughed  and  replied,  "I  have  no  fear  of  that.  You 
like  your  good  name  and  your  liberty  too  well  to  be  will 
ing  to  spend  the  rest  of  your  days  behind  prison  walls, 
an  object  of  greater  contempt  because  you  have  stood  so 
high  in  the  community,  trusted  and  respected  by  every 
one  ;  and  then  there  is  Inez.  Would  you  voluntarily  ruin 
her  life  with  a  knowledge  of  her  father's  shame?" 

Tom  knew  what  cords  to  touch  to  make  the  man  like 
clay  in  his  hands.  For  once,  however,  he  had  gone  too 
far.  The  white  faced,  blue  eyed  girl,  as  Tom  designated 


286  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

Fanny,  was  completing  the  work  which  Mr.  Rayborne 
had  for  some  time  been  agitating.  She  was  Inez's  friend. 
She  had  been  his  guest.  She  trusted  him,  and  she  should 
not  be  harmed.  But  how  to  hinder  it  was  a  question 
which  he  revolved  over  and  over  again  in  his  mind  as, 
after  leaving  Tom,  he  sat  by  his  window,  suffering  all 
the  horrors  of  remorse,  and  once  burying  his  face  in  his 
hands  he  cried,.  "God  help  me.  He  heard  the  thief  on 
the  cross ;  maybe  he  will  hear  me  who  am  worse  than  that 
thief." 

****** 

The  early  morning  was  breaking  in  the  east  and  on  the 
mountains  there  was  a  glow  of  sunrise.  Tom  was  up 
and  Inez,  too,  busy  with  breakfast  as  the  stage  for  Clark's 
passed  at  a  comparatively  early  hour.  Mr.  Rayborne  had 
not  been  in  bed  at  all  and  looked  white  and  tired  as  he 
went  out  to  the  bench  where  he  made  his  ablutions.  Tom 
was  there,  trying  to  force  down  a  feeling  which  was 
warning  him  of  danger.  Still  he  had  no  idea  of  giving  up 
his  enterprise.  It  had  been  planned  for  days  in  every  par 
ticular,  and  he  would  not  abandon  it  now.  He  would 
rather  have  Mr.  Rayborne  with  him,  if  he  could,  although 
he  was  getting  a  little  clumsy  and  sometimes  handicapped 
his  more  agile  companion  with  his  deliberation.  If  he 
would  not  go,  then  Tom  would  go  alone, — he  was  re 
solved  on  that, — and  said  so  to  Mr.  Rayborne  when  they 
met  by  the  rude  washstand. 

He  had  no  fear  of  being  circumvented  by  his  colleague, 
and  bidding  him  good-bye,  kissed  Inez,  who  came  to  the 
door  just  as  his  conversation  with  her  father  ended,  and 
went  down  the  hill  whistling  "The  girl  I  left  behind  me," 
while  Mr.  Rayborne  looked  after  him  with  a  feeling  of 
pain  and  apprehension. 


AT   PROSPECT   COTTAGE.  287 

"I  have  sown  the  wind  and  am  reaping  the  whirlwind, 
and  I  wish  I  were  dead,"  he  thought.  Then  he  repeated 
a  name  which  only  the  winds  heard.  "What  would  he 
say,  and  he  trusted  me  so  fully.  I  am  glad  he  don't  know. 
It  would  kill  him.  Nobody  knows,  but  God  and  Tom. 
I  am  glad  God  knows;  it  seems  as  if  he  would  show  me 
some  way  to  stop  it." 

Just  then  Inez  came  to  tell  him  that  breakfast  was 
ready,  and  bathing  his  hot  face  and  eyes  again  in  the  cold 
water  which  trickled  in  a  little  stream  down  from  the  hills, 
he  put  on  as  cheerful  a  face  as  possible  and  went  in  to 
meet  Fanny  just  coming  downstairs  with  something  in 
her  smile  which  made  him  think  again  of  the  withered 
rose  leaves  and  a  summer  he  would  have  given  much  to 
recall. 

"Where  is  Mr.  Hardy?"  Fanny  asked,  as  she  missed 
him  from  the  breakfast  table. 

"He  was  obliged  to  go  away  very  early  on  account  of 
•  that  appointment  he  told  us  about.  He  left  a  good-bye 
for  you  and  bade  me  tell  you  he  might  perhaps  meet  you 
on  the  road,"  Inez  said. 

"Oh,  I  hope  he  will.  I  grow  more  and  more  nervous 
about  the  journey,"  Fanny  replied,  glancing  at  Mr.  Ray- 
borne,  who  was  silent  and  preoccupied. 

His  head  ached,  he  said,  and  finishing  his  coffee  he  left 
-the  table  and  the  girls  were  alone. 

"He  is  not  himself  this  morning.  He  never  is  when  he 
has  one  of  his  hard  headaches,  and  this  I  guess  is  worse 
than  usual,"  Inez  said  apologetically.  "Tom  wanted  him 
to  go  with  him,  and  I  think  they  had  some  words  about 
it,  for  just  before  he  left  I  heard  Tom  say  'I  believe  you 
are  a  coward.'  Queer  for  father  and  Tom  to  quarrel." 

Fanny  did  not  reply  except  to  lament  that  Tom's  en 
gagement  must  keep  him  from  going  with  her. 


288  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"Perhaps  father  will  go,"  Inez  suggested,  and  going 
out  to  the  bench  where  he  sat  with  his  head  down  she 
said,  "Can't  you  go  with  Miss  Prescott  as  far  as  Clark's? 
The  ride  will  do  you  good." 

Inez  could  not  see  how  white  he  grew  as  he  answered, 
"I  go !  /, — and  meet  Tom  on  the  road  ?" 

She  did  not  know  what  he  meant,  and  looked  at  him  in 
wonder.  Suddenly  starting  and  brightening  up  he  ex 
claimed,  "It  has  come  to  me  at  last.  You  shall  go  to 
Clark's  and  return  on  the  late  stage.  If  there  is  not  room 
for  you  inside  you  can  go  on  the  box  with  the  driver. 
That's  the  best  place  for  you.  Keep  your  eyes  out  every 
where,  and  if  a  bandit  attacks  you,  don't  throw  up  your 
hands,  but  scream  in  your  natural  voice." 

Inez  could  not  understand  why  he  was  giving  her  so 
many  directions.  She  only  knew  she  was  delighted  to  go. 

"I  cannot  be  of  use  like  Tom,  if  anything  happened," 
she  said  to  Fanny,  "but  father  has  told  me  what  to  do, 
and  I'm  not  afraid." 

She  hurried  through  her  morning's  work,  her  father's 
dinner  was  planned,  and  she  was  ready  some  time  before 
the  stage  was  seen  in  the  distance  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
away.  Mr.  Rayborne  went  with  the  girls  to  the  road  and 
waited  until  it  drew  up.  Every  inside  seat  was  taken  ex 
cept  the  one  reserved  for  Fanny.  Mrs.  Prescott  who 
always  looked  out  for  herself,  had  appropriated  a  corner 
seat  in  the  rear  of  the  stage,  where  she  could  lean  back 
against  the  cushion.  She  had  a  headache,  as  usual,  and 
with  her  veil  over  her  face  she  looked  up  enough  to  greet 
her  daughter,  who  said,  "Inez  is  going  to  Clark's  with 
us.  There  is  not  room  for  her  inside,  and  I  am  going 
outside  with  her." 

Immediately  a  young  man  arose  and  offered  his  seat 


AT   PROSPECT   COTTAGE.  289 

to  Inez,  whose  father  said  in  a  low  tone,  "Stick  to  the 
box." 

"And  I  shall  stick,  too,"  Fanny  said.  "The  view  is 
much  finer  outside,  and  Inez  can  tell  me  the  places." 

The  two  girls  were  soon  seated  and  the  driver  was 
about  to  start  when  with  a  roar  Nero  came  down  the  hill, 
jumping  at  the  horses'  heads  and  then  at  Inez. 

"Here,  Nero,  here,"  Mr.  Rayborne  called  while  Inez 
pleaded  for  him  to  go. 

"I  can  bring  him  back  to-night,  and  he  never  has  a 
chance  to  go  anywhere,"  she  said,  but  her  father  was  firm 
and  the  dog  followed  him  rather  reluctantly  to  the  house 
and  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  his  kennel,  which  Tom 
had  built  for  him. 

"Nero  is  the  last  one  to  be  there  if  anything  happens. 
He  is  so  affectionate  and  demonstrative  and  sure  to  mix  in 
the  melee  that  recognition  would  be  inevitable,  and  I 
would  spare  Inez  that,  if  possible,"  Mr.  Rayborne 
thought,  as  he  sat  down  in  his  silent  room,  which  had 
never  seemed  so  lonely  before.  Nor  had  the  past  ever" 
crowded  upon  him  so  thickly  as  it  did  now,  filling  him 
with  remorse  as  real  as  it  was  bitter.  Every  leaf  in  his 
life  was  turned  with  its  dark  record  from  which  he  re 
coiled  with  horror.  Away  back  in  another  world  it  seemed 
to  him  there  were  bright  spots  and  he  saw  himself, 
looked  up  to  and  respected  and  happy,  leading  what  looked 
to  him  an  ideal  life  compared  to  what  he  was  leading  now. 

"Oh,  for  those  days.  Oh,  to  be  young  again  and  inno 
cent,"  he  said  aloud,  and  his  voice  sounded  so  strange 
that  he  half  started  from  his  chair  and  looked  around  to 
see  where  it  came  from.  "I  don't  like  being  alone,"  he 
said.  "Nero  is  better  than  no  company.  I'll  call  him." 

He  went  to  the  rear  door,  and  called  two  or  three  times, 
"Nero!  Nero!"  then  whistled,  with  the  same  result.  Nero 


THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

neither  answered,  nor  came.  He  had  gone  to  his  kennel 
and  lain  down  at  first,  then,  as  no  one  was  about,  he  struck 
off  into  the  woods,  looking  back  occasionally  to  see  if  he 
were  watched.  Once  in  the  woods  and  out  of  sight  of  the 
house  he  started  rapidly  in  the  direction  of  the  road,  keep 
ing  out  of  it  until  he  saw  the  stage  in  the  distance.  Then 
he  took  the  road,  and  in  a  few  minutes  was  barking  his 
delight  at  the  horses  and  at  Inez  on  the  box.  He  had 
often  tried  to  follow  his  master  and  Tom,  of  whom  he  was 
very  fond,  but  had  always  been  ordered  back.  Now,  he 
had  succeeded  in  eluding  them,  and  was  out  for  a  holi 
day,  which  he  enjoyed  hugely,  sometimes  keeping  near 
the  stage  and  again  making  a  detour  into  the  woods  and 
disappearing  altogether  for  a  time.  When  he  did  not  re 
turn  to  the  cottage  Mr.  Rayborne  knew  where  he  had 
gone.  There  might  no  harm  come  of  it,  and  perhaps  the 
dog's  presence  would  do  good,  he  thought,  and  as  the 
hours  crept  on  he  waited  in  feverish  impatience  for  the 
news  which  he  knew  would  travel  fast  if  there  were  any 
news  to  travel. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

ON  THE   ROAD  TO   CLARK'S. 

IT  was  a  good  road  and  a  pleasant  road  and  Fanny  and 
Inez  enjoyed  themselves  immensely.  There  was  a  halt 
at  Inspiration  Point  for  the  grand  view  and  a  last  look  at 
the  beautiful  valley.  Then  the  stage  lumbered  on  slowly 
for  it  was  full  and  the  horses  not  the  fleetest  in  the  world. 
It  had  been  cloudy  for  an  hour  or  so,  and  after  a  time 
rain  began  to  fall  in  a  soft,  misty  shower.  This  roused 


ON  THE   ROAD  TO   CLARK'S.  29! 

Mrs.  Prescott,  who  said  Fanny  must  come  inside,  while 
the  young  man  who  had  at  first  offered  his  seat  to  Inez 
insisted  again  that  she  should  take  it,  while  he  went  out 
side.  The  exchange  was  made  and  the  young  girls  were 
riding  side  by  side  with  their  backs  to  the  horses  and  Inez 
next  to  the  wheels.  The  shower  lasted  but  a  few  minutes 
before  the  sun  came  out  so  brightly  that  Inez,  whose  eyes 
were  not  strong,  tied  over  her  hat  a  thick,  blue  veil  which 
concealed  her  face  entirely.  There  was  no  thought  of  fear 
among  the  passengers.  The  road  to  Clark's  was  con 
sidered  safe  and  more  than  half  the  distance  had  been 
gone  over.  Mrs.  Prescott  was  asleep  in  her  corner; 
Fanny  and  Inez  were  chatting  together  as  girls  will 
chatter;  Nero,  tired  of  jumping  at  the  horses  and  Inez, 
was  off  in  the  woods  chasing  a  rabbit,  and  the  driver  had 
ceased  to  be  on  the  watch  for  any  trouble. 

"We  are  gettin'  through  all  safe,"  he  said  to  his  com 
panion  beside  him.  "It's  about  time  for  them  rascals  to 
show  up  again,  and  I  didn't  know  what  might  happen." 
They  were  Hearing  a  sharp  turn  with  a  ledge  of  rocks  be 
side  it  and  he  was  gathering  up  the  reins  the  better  to 
manage  his  horses  round  the  curve,  when  suddenly  the 
word  "Halt !"  rang  out  on  the  air,  and  a  man  wearing  a 
mask  came  from  some  quarter  no  one  could  tell  where, 
he  moved  so  rapidly  and  with  so  much  assurance.  Step 
ping  to  the  horses'  heads  he  stopped  them  and  pointing  a 
revolver  at  the  driver,  bade  him  make  no  effort  to  go  on 

"Little  Dick!"  was  whispered  among  the  tei rifled  pas 
sengers,  who  never  thought  of  disobeying  his  command, 
"Hands  up,  every  one  of  you !" 

They  all  went  up,  except  those  of  Inez,  close  to  whom 
the  bandit  was  standing.  At  the  sound  of  his  voice  she 
started  violently,  and  clutched  at  the  veil  upon  her  hat 
trying  to  tear  it  off. 


292  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"I  am  very  sorry,  my  good  people,  to  disturb  you,  and 
I  assure  you  none  of  you  will  be  harmed,  nor  shall  I  de 
tain  you  long  if  you  at  once  give  up  whatever  valuables 
you  may  have  on  you  persons, — money,  watches  and 
jewelry.  Perhaps  I'd  better  search  you  myself,  as  it  is 
not  convenient  for  you  to  use  your  hands  while  you  are 
holding  them  up.  Step  out  quietly  and  it  will  soon  be 
over.  These  two  young  ladies  first,  please.  Shall  I  help 
you  ?" 

He  bowed  toward  Inez  and  Fanny,  extending  one 
hand  to  them  and  with  the  other  covering  them  with  his 
revolver.  Fanny  was  paralyzed  with  fear,  and  half  slid 
ing  from  her  seat,  tried  to  hide  behind  Inez,  to  whom 
she  said,  "Oh,  what  shall  we  do?" 

Inez  made  no  reply.  She  had  succeeded  in  tearing  the 
\eil  from  her  face,  which  was  white  as  a  corpse,  while 
in  her  eyes  was  a  look  of  horror,  but  not  of  fear.  Turn 
ing  toward  the  man  inviting  her  so  politely  to  descend 
she  gave  a  shriek  more  appalling  than  the  word  "Halt !" 
had  been,  and  bounding  from  the  stage  in  front  of  him, 
struck  his  arm  so  heavy  a  blow  with  her  fist  that  his  re 
volver  was  thrown  at  a  little  distance  from  him  and  lay 
upon  the  ground.  Both  started  for  it,  but  Inez  reached 
it  first.  Snatching  it  up  she  looked  steadily  into  his 
eyes,  which  the  mask  did  not  conceal. 

"Go,"  she  said,  "or  I  will  shoot  you  like  a  dog.  I 
always  said  I  would  kill  any  one  I  found  doing  this  dirty 
work,  and  I  have  found  you!"  Then,  to  the  passengers, 
who,  m  their  fright,  were  still  holding  up  their  hands, 
she  continued :  "Drop  your  hands !  Cowards !  to  fear 
this  one  man!  You  see  I  am  not  afraid  of  him." 

The  man  stood  as  if  turned  into  stone,  until  she  said 
to  him  again,  "Go,  I  tell  you,  before  I  fire,  or  Nero  sees 
you.  He  is  here." 


ON  THE   ROAD   TO   CLARK'S.  293 

This  last  was  spoken  so  low  that  only  the  brigand 
heard  it,  looking  round  quickly  and  then  back  at  Inez. 
Her  cheeks  were  flushed;  her  eyes  were  blazing,  and  her 
white  teeth  showed  between  her  parted  lips  as  she  ad 
vanced  toward  him  like  some  enraged  animal,  with  the 
revolver  aimed  at  his  head.  It  seemed  a?  if  he  wanted  to 
speak,  but  she  gave  him  no  chance,  and  at  her  second 
imperative  "Go,"  and  mention  of  the  dog,  he  went,  not 
very  rapidly  at  first,  but  walking  like  one  whose  strength 
had  left  him. 

At  this  point  Nero,  who  had  given  up  his  rabbit,  came 
panting  back,  surprised,  if  dogs  can  be  surprised,  at  what 
he  saw.  The  passengers  had  all  alighted  and  were  sur 
rounding  Inez  with  warm  encomiums  for  her  bravery. 
Nero  seemed  to  know  she  was  the  central  figure  in  the 
group  and  gave  her  a  loud,  approving  bark,  which  was 
heard  by  the  bandit,  who  half  turned  his  head  and  then 
quickened  his  steps  to  a  run.  But  Nero,  who  had 
caught  sight  of  him,  was  after  him  with  yelps  and  cries 
and  barks,  which  the  passengers  thought  meant  mis 
chief.  Inez  knew  better,  and  fierce  as  was  her  anger  she 
would,  if  possible,  prevent  a  recognition  which  would 
involve  so  much. 

"Nero,"  she  tried  to  call,  but  her  tongue  refused  to 
nove,  and  she  could  only  give  a  low  cry  of  alarm  as  the 
dog  bounded  upon  the  back  of  the  man,  with  such  force 
that  he  was  thrown  down  and  his  mask  fell  off. 

In  a  moment  he  was  on  his  feet,  keeping  his  back  to 
the  passengers  and  beating  Nero  off,  while  Inez,  who  had 
found  her  voice,  called  to  him  peremptorily  to  come  back, 
saying  to  those  around  her,  ''We  do  not  wish  to  see 
him  torn  to  pieces  before  our  eyes." 

Very  unwillingly  Nero  obeyed  and  came  back  just  as 
the  bandit  disappeared  among  the  trees.  Up  to  this  time 


294  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

Inez  had  stood  rigid  like  one  in  catalepsy, — the  revolver 
in  her  hand  and  her  eyes  strained  to  their  utmost  as  she 
watched  the  receding  figure.  Her  heart  was  beating 
wildly  in  her  throat.  There  was  the  roaring  sound  of 
"Halt!"  in  her  ears,  shutting  out  every  other  sound  so 
that  she  scarcely  heard  the  words  of  commendation  from 
those  around  her. 

"Inez,"  Fanny  said,  "don't  look  so  terribly!  It  is  over 
now.  He  has  gone.  Sit  down,  before  you  faint." 

"Yes,  that  is  best,"  Inez  gasped,  while  many  hands 
were  stretched  out  to  keep  her  from  falling,  as  her  eyes 
closed  and  her  body  began  to  sway. 

They  put  her  down  upon  the  grass  and  Fanny  took  her 
head  in  her  lap,  while  every  bag  in  the  coach,  which  had 
a  restorative  in  it,  was  opened,  and  its  contents  brought 
out.  Brandy,  whisky,  camphor,  cologne,  bay  rum,  lav 
ender  water,  witch  hazel  and  hartshorn  were  tried  by 
turns  with  no  effect.  She  still  lay  in  a  death  like  faint 
and  they  could  see  the  rapid  beating  of  her  heart  as  it 
rose  and  fell  irregularly. 

"Loosen  her  dress,"  some  one  suggested.  They 
loosened  it  and  she  breathed  easier,  but  did  not  recover 
and  her  face  was  growing  purple  when  the  sound  of 
horses'  hoofs  was  heard  and  Tom  Hardy  came  leisurely 
galloping  round  the  curve  in  the  road  on  the  bay  mare 
Inez  had  driven  the  previous  day. 

"What  is  this?  Another  hold  up?"  he  said,  dis 
mounting  quickly  and  joining  the  excited  group,  each 
one  of  which  began  to  narrate  the  particulars  in  his  and 
her  own  way. 

To  those  nearest  to  her  Fanny  said  in  a  low  tone, 
"He  is  her  lover,  and  the  man  who  saved  the  other  coach 
as  she  has  saved  us." 

It  scarcely  took  an  instant  for  this  to  become  known 


ON  THE  ROAD  to  CLARK'S.  29$ 

to  all,  and  Tom  was  at  once  nearly  as  much  an  object  of 
interest  as  Inez,  and  a  way  was  made  for  him  to  go  to 
her. 

"Why,  it  is  Inez!  How  came  she  here?"  he  asked  in 
a  perfectly  steady  voice,  but  his  face  was  white  and  his 
hands  shook  as  he  knelt  by  the  still  unconscious  girl, 
calling  her  name  and  rubbing  her  cold  face. 

At  the  sound  of  his  voice  she  opened  her  eyes  and 
looked  at  him  with  an  expression  of  loathing  and  de 
spair. 

"Oh,  Tom,  Tom,"  she  cried,  and  the  anguish  in  her 
voice  haunted  Tom  to  his  dying  day. 

"I  am  here,  Inez,"  he  said,  very  tenderly.  "What  can 
I  do  for  you  ?" 

She  made  no  reply,  but  looked  up  at  Fanny  as  if  ask 
ing  what  she  knew  or  suspected.  Fanny  suspected  no 
thing,  and  her  tears  fell  fast  and  hot  upon  Inez's  face, 
which  she  kissed  again  and  again  until  a  faint  color  came 
back  to  it ;  the  heart  beats  were  less  rapid,  and  she  tried 
to  get  up.  Every  one  was  ready  to  help  her,  Tom  with 
the  rest,  but  she  motioned  them  all  aside,  and  standing 
erect  said  with  an  effort  to  smile,  "I  have  made  quite  a 
scene.  My  strength  gave  out  at  last.  I  am  all  right 
now.  What  became  of  my  hat?" 

Three  or  four  hurried  to  bring  it  to  her,  while  Tom 
said  to  Fanny,  "Where  is  yours?" 

It  had  fallen  off  in  her  excitement  and  lay  at  some  dis 
tance  from  her  where  it  had  been  stepped  on  two  or 
three  times  and  badly  crushed.  Tom  picked  it  up, 
brushed  it  very  carefully,  straightened  it  as  well-  as  he 
could  and  then  put  it  on  Fanny's  head,  saying,  as  he  did 
so,  "I  think  it  is  all  right." 

He  seemed  much  more  cheerful  than  at  first,  and  pat- 


296  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

ted  Nero  on  the  head,  saying,  "You  here,  too?    I  wonder 
you  did  not  go  after  the  ruffian. 

"He  did,"  Fanny  explained,  "and  knocked  him  down 
and  would  have  torn  him  to  pieces  if  Inez  had  not  called 
him  off." 

"Why  did  she  do  that?  She  might  have  let  him  hold 
the  villain  till  he  was  captured.  There  are  surely  enough 
men  here  to  have  secured  him,"  Tom  said,  speaking  so 
low  that  Inez  did  not  hear  him. 

She  was  leaning  against  a  tree,  with  Nero  at  her  side. 
He  had  seemed  suspicious  of  Tom  and  declining  his 
advances  had  gone  to  Inez,  looking  at  her  inquiringly  as 
if  asking  the  cause  of  the  commotion. 

"I  wish  he  had  held  him,"  Fanny  said,  vehemently, 
"but  I  wish  still  more  that  you  had  met  us  earlier  and 
this  would  not  have  happened.  You  ought  to  have  seen 
Inez  when  she  sprang  over  the  wheel  and  confronted 
the  robber.  She  was  grand  and  her  eyes  were  terrible 
as  she  marched  straight  up  to  him  as  if  she  were  not  a 
bit  afraid.  I  think  she  would  have  fired  if  he  had  not 
turned  and  ran." 

Tom  made  no  reply  except  to  say,  "I  wish  I  had  come 
earlier,"  then,  addressing  Inez  he  asked  if  she  would  go 
oil  to  Clark's,  or  go  home. 

"I  must  go  home,"  she  answered  quickly.  "It  is 
the  best  place." 

Fanny  at  once  offered  to  go  with  her,  but  Inez  de 
clined. 

"No,  no,"  she  said.    "I  want  to  be  alone." 

"How  will  you  go?  You  cannot  walk  so  far,"  some 
one  asked,  and  Tom  replied,  "She  will  take  my  horse  and 
I  shall  walk." 

By  this  time  the  driver  was  getting  anxious  to  be  off. 
and  the  passengers  gathered  around  Inez,  bidding  her 


ON   THE    ROAD   TO   CLARK'S.  297 

good  bye,  telling  her  they  should  never  forget  her  brav 
ery,  and  calling  her  the  heroine  of  the  valley,  as  Tom  was 
the  hero. 

"Don't,  don't,"  Inez  said,  putting  up  both  her  hands. 
"Don't  thank  me.  I  didn't  think  of  saving  anybody.  I 
was  wild.  I  was  desperate.  I — I  am  not  a  heroine. 
Don't  talk  about  me.  Don't  let  them  put  me  in  the 
papers.  I  can't  bear  it." 

There  was  a  hard  look  on  her  face  which  softened 
when  Fanny  came  up  to  say  good  bye.  Drawing  her 
closely  to  her  Inez  sobbed  like  a  child. 

"It  was  so  bright  yesterday,  and  this  morning  I  was 
so  happy.  It  is  so  dark  now,  and  will  be  always.  Good 
bye,  and  God  bless  you.  I  don't  believe  I  shall  ever  see 
you  again." 

"Yes,  you  will,"  Fanny  answered.  "We  are  to  spend 
a  few  days  at  Clark's,  and  if  you  do  not  come  there  I 
shall  drive  over  and  call  on  you,  and  then  there  is  New 
York  in  the  future." 

Inez  shook  her  head.  She  knew  there  was  no  glad 
future  for  her  and  her  tears  fell  like  rain  as  she  watched 
Fanny  getting  into  the  stage,  helped  by  Tom,  \v!:o  lifted 
his  hat  very  politely  as  the  stage  drove  off,  the  passengers 
looking  back  and  waving  hands  and  handkerchiefs  to 
Inez  until  the  turn  in  the  road  hid  her  from  view. 
Nothing  was  talked  of  the  rest  of  the  way  but  the  attempt 
at  robbery  and  Inez's  wonderful  courage  and  presence  of 
mind. 

"We  ought  to  do  something  to  show  our  appreciation ; 
make  up  a  purse,  perhaps,  if  she  is  poor,"  some  one  sug 
gested,  and  Fanny  quickly  interposed,  "They  are  not 
poor  in  that  way.  Money  would  be  out  of  place.  Make 
her  a  present  which  she  can  always  keep." 

This  met  with  general  approval,  and  it  was  decided 


298  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

that  as  soon  as  Fanny  returned  to  San  Francisco  she 
should  purchase  a  handsome  watch,  with  Inez's  name 
and  the  date  of  the  attempted  robbery  on  the  case.  The 
money  was  to  be  contributed  at  Clark's,  where  the  stage 
arrived  nearly  an  hour  behind  its  usual  time.  All  the 
passengers  were  to  continue  their  journey  that  day  ex 
cept  Fanny  and  her  mother.  The  latter  was  in  a  state 
of  utter  prostration  and  went  at  once  to  her  room  and 
to  bed.  During  the  scene  on  the  road  she  had  sat  half 
fainting  in  the  coach,  alighting  once  when  all  the  rest 
did  and  then,  seeing  she  could  be  of  no  use,  creeping 
back  to  her  corner  and  feeling  that  she  was  doing  her 
duty  when  she  passed  out  her  golden  stoppered  salts 
as  her  contribution  to  the  many  restoratives  offered  to 
Inez.  Her  trip  to  the  Yosemite  had  not  been  very  pleas 
ant,  and  she  was  glad  she  was  so  far  on  her  way  back  to 
the  city  which  suited  her  better. 

"I  shall  always  feel  grateful  to  that  girl,"  she  said  to 
Fanny,  as  she  was  getting  into  bed.  "She  saved  us 
from  a  great  unpleasantness.  Think  of  being  ordered 
out  of  the  stage  and  searched  by  a  masked  blackguard 
with  a  revolver  in  your  face.  He  would  have  found  no 
thing  of  value  about  me  except  a  few  dollars.  The  dia 
monds  were  safe  in  your  hat.  I  watched  it  all  the  time 
until  it  rolled  off  into  the  mud.  Mr.  Hardy  picked  it  up. 
I  did  not  see  him  very  closely,  but  thought  he  seemed 
a  very  gentlemanly  fellow,  who  had  seen  more  of  the 
world  than  that  girl  he  is  to  marry.  I  think  he  could  do 
better." 

Fanny  did  not  hear  the  last  of  her  mother's  remarks. 
In  her  fright  and  excitement  over  the  robber  and  Inez 
she  had  not  given  the  diamonds  a  thought  until  her 
mother  brought  them  to  her  mind.  Her  hat  was  still 
on  her  head  and  snatching  it  off  she  passed  her  hand 


ON   THE    ROAD   TO   CLARK'S.  299 

over  the  bows  of  ribbon  in  quest  of  the  little  linen  bag. 
IT  WAS  GONE!  The  strong  thread  with  which  it  had 
been  sewed  to  the  hat  had  been  wrenched  apart  from  the 
ribbon  and  it  had  slipped  out, when  or  where  no  one  could 
tell.  The  diamonds  were  lost,  and  the  hotel  was  soon  in 
a  state  of  nearly  as  great  excitement  as  there  had  been  on 
the  road.  Many  suggestions  were  offered,  one  of  which 
was  that  when  the  hat  was  stepped  on  by  the  heavy  boots 
of  some  of  the  party,  as  it  evidently  had  been,  the  stitches 
had  given  way  and  the  bag  fallen  out.  This  seemed  feas 
ible,  and  with  a  gentleman  and  a  guide  from  the  hotel 
Fanny  went  back  to  the  scene  of  the  adventure,  looking 
all  along  the  road  and  going  over  every  inch  of  ground 
near  the  spot  where  the  stage  had  been  stopped.  There 
were  footprints  of  the  people  and  Tom  Hardy's  horse 
and  a  spot  in  the  spongy  soil  where  Nero  had  stretched 
himself  at  full  length,  but  the  diamonds  were  not  there. 
Very  unwillingly  Fanny  broke  the  news  to  her  mother, 
who  at  once  went  into  hysterics  so  violent  that  a  physi 
cian  was  called,  and  all  that  night  Fanny  and  Celine 
were  kept  busy  attending  to  her.  It  was  not  the  value  of 
the  diamonds  she  deplored  so  much,  she  said,  although 
that  was  great,  as  the  fact  that  the  ear-rings  had  been  in 
the  family  so  long  and  were  to  have  been  Fanny's  on 
her  wedding  day.  Fanny,  too,  was  very  sorry  for  her 
loss,  but  thought  less  of  it  than  of  Inez,  whose  face 
haunted  her  as  she  last  saw  it,  so  white  and  drawn,  with 
an  expression  which  puzzled  her.  She  would  like  to 
have  driven  over  in  the  early  morning  to  inquire  for  her, 
but  her  mother  was  too  weak  and  nervous  to  be  left  and 
she  was  obliged  to  wait  for  the  daily  stage  which  she 
hoped  would  bring  her  some  news. 


3<X>  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

MARK  HILTON. 

WHEN  the  stage  disappeared  from  her  sight  Inez  was 
standing  as  motionless  as  a  statue,  with  a  look  in  her  eyes 
which  made  Tom  half  afraid  to  go  near  her. 

"Inez,"  he  said,  at  last,  as  she  did  not  move.  "Inez, 
shall  we  go  now?" 

"Bring  up  the  mare,"  was  her  answer. 

He  brought  her,  and  pointing  to  the  stump  of  a  tree 
near  by  Inez  continued,  "Take  her  there." 

He  took  her  there,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  help  Inez 
mount.  She  motioned  him  aside  and  seated  herself  in 
the  saddle,  which  did  not  inconvenience  her  at  all,  as  she 
was  accustomed  to  it.  She  was  shaking  like  a  leaf,  but 
did  not  know  it  or  feel  any  fatigue  as  she  started  on  the 
road,  followed  by  Tom  and  Nero.  The  latter  alone 
seemed  to  have  any  life  in  him.  He  was  glad  to  go  home 
and  showed  his  gladness  by  barking  and  jumping  alter 
nately  at  Inez  and  the  mare.  At  last,  as  no  attention  was 
paid  to  him,  it  seemed  to  occur  to  his  canine  sagacity  that 
something  was  wrong  and  had  been  all  the  time,  and 
he,  too,  subsided  into  silence  and  trotted  demurely  by 
Inez's  side.  Once  when  a  feeling  of  dizziness  came  over 
her,  making  her  sway  in  the  saddle,  Tom,  whose  eyes 
were  constantly  upon  her,  put  his  arm  upon  her  waist 
to  steady  her.  Recoiling  from  him  as  from  a  viper  she 
said,  "Don't  touch  me,  Tom  Hardy,  nor  speak  to  me  until 
this  mood  is  past.  Your  revolver  is  in  my  pocket.  Fath 
er  says  there  is  murder  in  my  blood,  and  I  might  kill 
you." 

Tom  fell  back  behind  her,  while  she  straightened  her- 


MARK   HILTON.  301 

self  and  sat  erect  as  an  Indian,  but  made  no  effort  to 
guide  the  horse,  who  took  her  own  gait,  a  rather  slow 
one,  with  which  Tom  could  easily  keep  pace.  What  his 
thoughts  were  during  that  long  walk  it  were  difficult  to 
guess.  His  hands  were  in  his  pockets  and  his  head  was 
down,  hiding  his  face  from  Inez,  who  glanced  at  him 
once  as  the  mare  stopped  a  moment  under  the  shade  of 
a  tree  and  he  passed  on  in  advance.  If,  as  her  father 
had  said,  there  was  murder  in  her  blood,  it  was  boiling 
now  and  had  been  since  she  bounded  from  the  coach. 

"I  could  rid  the  world  of  him  so  easily,"  she  thought, 
<ind  her  hand  went  into  her  pocket,  but  with  a  sob 
which  seemed  to  rend  her  heart  in  two,  she  drew  it 
back,  and  whispered,  "I  have  loved  him  so  much.  I 
cannot  harm  him  now." 

They  had  reachd  a  point  from  which  the  cottage  could 
be  seen,  with  her  father  on  the  piazza  looking  in  their 
direction.  At  sight  of  him  Tom  turned  to  Inez  and  said, 
"You  are  not  to  despise  your  father  as  you  do  me.  I  led 
him  into  it.  I  am  to  blame." 

Inez  made  no  answer,  but  her  face  softened  a  little ; 
then  hardened  again  when,  as  she  drew  near  the  cottage, 
she  saw  her  father  coming  to  meet  her.  He  had  felt  all 
the  morning  that  the  crisis  he  had  so  long  expected  was 
close  at  hand.  The  net  of  sin  he  had  woven  was  closing 
round  him  and,  but  for  his  daughter,  who  believed  in 
him  so  fully,  he  did  not  care  how  soon  it  enfolded  him 
and  he  stood  unmasked  before  the  world  which  now  re 
spected  him  so  highly. 

The  reader  has,  of  course,  long  suspected  that  Mr. 
Rayborne  and  Long  John  and  Mark  Hilton  were  one. 
How  he  came  to  be  what  he  was  he  could  scarcely  tell. 
He  had  loved  Helen  Tracy  devotedly.  He  sometimes 
thought  he  loved  her  still  in  spite  of  the  bitterness  which 


302  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

had  sprung  up  between  them,  he  hardly  knew  how  or 
why,  as  he  looked  back  upon  it.  She  had  thought  her 
self  safe  with  him  because  he  knew  the  worst  there  was 
of  her.  But  because  he  knew  it  he  was,  after  the  first  few 
months  of  feverish  adoration  were  over,  more  on  the 
alert,  perhaps,  than  he  should  have  been.  He  did  not 
trust  her  and  she  knew  it  and  grew  restive  under  his 
watchful  surveillance.  He  had  no  right  to  distrust  her, — 
no  right  to  be  jealous, —  no  right  to  criticise  her  actions, 
and  because  he  did,  she,  in  a  spirit  of  retaliation,  taunted 
him  with  his  birth  and  position  and  poverty,  until  he 
could  endure  it  no  longer  and  left  her,  half  resolving, 
before  a  week  was  passed,  to  go  back,  for  his  little  baby 
daughter  had,  if  possible,  a  stronger  hold  upon  him  than 
her  mother.  Then  his  pride  came  up  and  he  said,  "I'll 
stay  away  till  she  sends  for  me.  She  knows  where  I  am." 
But  she  did  not  send,  and  from  some  source  he  heard 
she  was  getting  a  divorce.  This  hurt  him  more  than 
all  the  hard  words  she  had  ever  said  to  him,  as  it  cut  him 
off  from  her  forever.  But  there  was  still  the  baby.  "For 
her  sake  I'll  be  a  man  and  some  day  I'll  go  to  her  and  tell 
her  I  am  her  father,"  he  thought. 

Alas  for  the  mistakes  which  change  the  current  of 
one's  whole  life.  Chancing  upon  a  Chicago  paper  in 
which  were  comments  upon  the  recent  divorce  of 
<(the  beautiful  Mrs.  Hilton,  so  well  known  in  fashionable 
circles,"  there  was  mention  made  of  her  recent  bereave 
ment  in  the  death  of  her  little  girl.  Mark  could  not  re 
member  when  he  had  cried  before,  but  he  did  so  now. 
Everything  was  swept  from  him, — his  wife,  his  home, 
and  his  infant  daughter. 

"God  has  turned  against  me,  if  there  is  a  God,"  he  said, 
"and  I  care  nothing  what  becomes  of  me  HOW." 

For  days  he  was  in  a  most  despondent  mood,  scarcely 


MARK    HILTON.  303 

eating  or  sleeping,  and  paying  but  little  attention  to  any 
thing  passing  around  him.  Jeff,  who  had  come  with  him 
from  Chicago,  roused  him  at  last  by  suggesting  that  they 
go  to  the  mines  of  Montana.  Although  so  young,  Jeff 
was  beginning  to  have  a  great  influence  over  Mark, 
who  felt  so  discouraged  and  hopeless  that  it  was  pleasant 
to  lean  upon  some  one  even  if  it  were  a  boy.  They  went 
to  Montana  and  into  the  mines,  but  on  the  day  of  the 
accident  both  were  away  at  some  distance  from  the 
scene  of  the  disaster,  prospecting  for  themselves.  When 
the  news  reached  them  and  Mark  heard  that  he  was 
supposed  to  be  dead  and  that  Jeff  was  missing,  it  was 
the  latter  who  said,  "Let's  stay  dead  and  missing,  and 
take  another  name,  and  go  on  further  west  or  south, 
and  begin  new  with  the  world.  I  think  it  will  be  fun." 

The  boy's  advice  was  followed,  and  John  Rayborne 
and  Tom  Hardy  went  to  California,  wh°re  Anita  Raffael 
came  in  Mark's  way.  She  was  an  orphan, — alone  in  the 
world, — with  no  home  but  the  convent  in  which  her 
father  had  placed  her  at  school  before  he  died.  With 
Mark  it  was  at  first  only  pastime  to  talk  to  the  little  half 
Spanish,  half  Mexican,  when  he  chanced  to  meet  her. 
Then  something  in  her  lovely  face  and  soft,  dark  eyes 
began  to  appeal  to  him,  and  he  accidentally  discovered 
how  much  he  was  to  her,  and  how  forlorn  she  was  in 
her  convent  home,  where  she  was  like  an  imprisoned 
bird  beating  its  wings  against  the  bars  of  its  cage  in  its 
efforts  to  escape.  No  one  was  unkind  to  her ;  no  one 
could  be,  she  was  so  gentle  and  sweet.  She  was  un 
happy  because  she  wanted  freedom,  and  when  Mark 
asked  her  to  be  his  wife,  she  took  him  gladly,  and  was 
so  loving,  and  happy  and  gay,  that  he  never  repented  the 
act.  She  was  not  like  Helen,  nor  was  he  like  the  Mark 
Hilton  who  had  won  the  famous  beauty.  He  was  John 


304  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS.' 

Rayborne,  and  Anita  was  his  wife,  and  their  home  was 
in  the  Yosemite,  where  she  persuaded  him  to  go,  for  she 
loved  the  wild,  mountain  scenery  and  made  their  cot 
tage  a  bower  of  beauty,  with  her  skillful  hands  and  per 
fect  taste.  When  she  heard  of  a  stage  robbery  she  would 
get  furious  and  stamp  her  little  feet  and  denounce  the 
robbers  in  her  broken  English,  while  Mark  laughed  at 
her  excitement  and  asked,  "What  would  you  do  if  I  were 
to  take  to  the  road  some  day  ?" 

"Kill  you  first,  and  then  die  myself,"  she  answered, 
with  no  more  thought  that  such  a  thing  could  be  than 
Mark  himself  had  then. 

For  a  time  he  drove  the  stage  in  the  summer  between 
Milton  and  the  valley,  and  was  once  or  twice  stopped  on 
the  road  when  Jeff  was  with  him  on  the  box.  Thus,  both 
"knew  the  ropes,"  as  Jeff  said,  criticising  the  manner  of 
the  attack  and  pointing  out  a  better  way,  while  Mark 
laughed  at  him,  and  without  meaning  what  he  said,  sug 
gested  that  he  try  it. 
.  Giving  up  stage-coaching,  he  became  a  guide,  and 

then .     There  was  a  deep,  dark  gulf  after  the  then, 

and  he  always  shuddered  when  he  recalled  the  day  when 
he  joined  Jeff  in  what  he  called  a  mere  lark.  Jeff  had 
tried  it  alone,  and,  unknown  to  Mr.  Hilton,  to  see  if  he 
could  do  it.  He  had  profited  by  what  he  had  seen  on 
the  road  and  laid  his  plans  carefully  as  to  what  he  would 
do  in  certain  circumstances.  As  a  boy  he  had  picked 
pockets  for  fun,  and  he  stopped  the  coach  on  the  same 
principle,  finding  that  the  gymnastic  perfomances  of  his 
youth  were  a  help  to  him  in  the  rapidity  with  which  he 
could  do  his  work  and  disappear.  The  stage  which  was 
the  object  of  his  first  attempt  was  chosen  because  there 
was  only  one  passenger  in  it,  a  clergyman,  who  had 
prayed  aloud  while  he  was  being  searched. 


MARK   HILTON.  305 

"The  old  cove's  watch  was  silver,  and  he  had  only 
twenty-five  dollars  in  his  purse,  and  I  gave  them  back  to 
him.  I  never  meant  to  take  a  blessed  thing,  and  my  re 
volver  wasn't  loaded,"  he  said  to  Mark  to  whom  he 
related  his  adventure. 

The  boy,  who  had  horrified  Uncle  Zacheus  by  saying 
he'd  like  to  be  a  robber  and  had  astonished  Alice  by  of 
fering  to  pick  her  pocket,  had  developed  into  a  man  with 
a  will  so  strong  and  a  manner  so  enticing  that  Mark  was 
like  clay  in  his  hands.  It  was,  however,  some  time  before 
he  was  persuaded  to  try  what  he  could  do  at  a  hold-up. 
He  found  he  could  do  a  great  deal.  The  excitement  and 
danger  were  exhilarating,  especially  when  Jeff  was  with 
him  and  by  his  wonderful  activity  bewildered  the  pas 
sengers  until  they  could  have  sworn  there  were  half 
a  dozen  men  instead  of  one  demanding  their  money. 
It  wras  exhilarating,  too,  to  help  search  for  the  brigands 
and  hear  all  that  was  said  of  them  and  make  suggestions 
as  to  the  best  means  of  capturing  them.  The  downward 
grade  once  entered  upon,  it  was  comparatively  easy  to 
continue  it  until  he  was  steeped  in  crime  so  deep  that  to 
go  back  seemed  impossible.  Sometimes  when  Anita's 
arms  were  around  his  neck  he  would  put  her  from  him 
quickly  with  a  feeling  that  he  was  not  worthy  to  touch 
one  so  pure  and  innocent  and  who  trusted  him  so  im 
plicitly.  It  would  kill  her  if  she  knew  the  truth,  but 
she  never  should  know  it,  he  thought,  and  for  her  sake 
and  his  daughter's  he  was  deciding  to  quit  his  mode  of 
life  when  her  sudden  death  paralyzed  for  a  time  every 
faculty  of  his  mind  and  left  him  without  the  ballast  he 
needed. 

Returning  home  late  one  night  after  an  absence  of  two 
or  three  days  he  had  been  talking  with  Jeff  of  a  recent 
robbery  and  the  necessity  there  was  to  keep  quiet  for 


306  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS.  ' 

some  time  to  come,  the  country  was  so  thoroughly 
aroused  and  so  large  a  price  was  offered  for  the  capture 
of  the  men.  A  slight  sound,  more  like  the  cry  of  a 
wounded  animal  than  of  a  human  being,  attracted  his 
attention,  and  hurrying  into  the  next  room  he  found 
Anita  senseless  upon  the  floor.  She  had  been  sitting 
t*p  after  Inez  was  in  bed  hoping  he  might  come  home 
and  had  fallen  asleep  so  that  she  did  not  hear  him  when 
he  came  in ;  neither  did  he  see  her,  or  suspect  that  she 
was  m  the  next  room.  His  voice  must  have  awakened 
her,  but  what  she  heard  he  never  knew.  That  it  was 
enough  to  kill  her  he  was  sure.  Everything  which  he 
could  do  for  her  he  did,  but  although  she  recovered  her 
consciousness  she  never  spoke  again  except  with  her 
eyes  which  followed  him  constantly  and  were  full  of  the 
horror  she  could  not  express.  After  she  died  he  re 
mained  at  home  the  entire  summer,  but  when  the  next 
season  came  round  Tom  persuaded  him  to  take  up  the 
old  life,  which  would  give  him  excitement  if  not  peace 
of  mind.  Many  were  the  ruses  resorted  to  to  throw  peo 
ple  off  the  track  should  they  ever  chance  upon  it.  The 
attack  of  Mark  upon  a  stage  and  Tom's  defence  was  one 
of  them,  planned  by  Tom,  who  was  ringleader  in  every 
thing.  No  one  suspected  them  and  their  popularity  hurt 
Mark  nearly  as  much  as  suspicion  would  have  done. 
But  nothing  touched  him  like  Inez's  faith  in  him.  She 
was  his  idol,  on  whom  he  lavished  all  the  love  he  had 
ever  given  to  Helen  and  Anita.  Of  her  engagement  he 
secretly  disapproved.  That  Tom  would  leave  nothing 
undone  to  make  her  happy  he  knew,  but  that  his  beau 
tiful  young  daughter  should  marry  a  man  for  whose  cap 
ture  thousands  of  dollars  were  offered  was  terrible.  But 
he  was  powerless.  To  betray  Tom  was  to  condemn  him 
self,  and  either  would  kill  Inez  as  her  mother  was  killed. 


MARK  HILTON.  307 

And  so  matters  were  drifting  when  chance  threw  Fan 
ny  Prescott  in  his  way  and  something  about  her  re 
minded  him  of  the  days  when  he  had  walked  with  Helen 
Tracy  through  the  woods  and  pastures  of  Ridgefield, 
and  when  Uncle  Zacheus  had  believed  in  him  implicitly, 
disclaiming  all  taint  of  heredity  which  might  have  come 
to  him  from  Tina.  He  had  no  thought  that  Fanny  was 
his  daughter,  but  she  was  like  the  people  he  used  to 
know, — like  Helen  and  Alice  and  Craig,  and  she  sent 
his  thoughts  back  to  them  with  a  vividness  which  almost 
made  him  feel  that  he  was  like  them  again.  He  would 
not  harm  her,  nor  have  her  harmed. 

"It's  no  use  talking,"  he  said,  when  Tom  unfolded  his 
plan  of  stopping  the  coach  in  which  she  was  to  leave  the 
valley.  "I'm  tired  of  it  all,  and  would  give  half  the  re 
mainder  of  my  life  if  the  scroll  could  be  unrolled  and  all 
the  black  writing  erased." 

To  this  resolution  he  stood  firm,  wondering  what  he 
could  do  to  prevent  the  catasthrophe.  It  came  to  him 
like  an  inspiration  to  send  Inez  with  the  driver,  knowing 
that  with  her  tall  figure  she  would  be  readily  seen  from 
the  point  where  Tom  would  probably  stand  concealed 
and  make  his  observations.  That  something  might  hap 
pen  he  feared  when  he  found  that  Nero  had  gone  after 
the  coach.  He  would  recognize  Tom  and  springing  upon 
him  in  his  delight,  as  he  had  a  habit  of  doing,  he  might 
unmask  him  and  the  secret  be  revealed.  To  threaten  to 
do  this  himself  was  one  thing,  and  to  have  it  done  was 
another,  and  he  was  waiting  impatiently  for  the  result 
when  he  at  last  saw  Inez  coming  up  the  path  on  the  bay 
mare.  Her  face  was  pallid  as  a  corpse  and  her  eyes  so 
unnaturally  large  and  black  that  he  could  see  their  black 
ness  in  the  distance  and  felt  himself  shrinking  from  meet 
ing  them.  Tom  was  near  her,  with  his  head  bent  down 


THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

and  his  feet  dragging  heavily  as  if  walking  were  difficult 
for  him. 

"I  must  face  it,"  Mark  said  to  himself,  and  hurrying  to 
meet  them  he  asked  what  had  happened. 

"Don't  ask  me,  and  don't  touch  me,"  Inez  answered, 
motioning  him  away.  "Tom,  your  colleague,  will  tell 
you." 

She  sprang  from  the  horse  and  went  into  the  house 
without  looking  at  her  father,  who  turned  to  Tom  for 
an  explanation. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

MARK  AND  TOM. 

THE  explanation  was  given  concisely  and  fully,  with 
nothing  added  or  withheld.  As  he  listened  Mark  felt  that 
he  had  neither  strength,  nor  muscle,  nor  nerve  left.  His 
sin  had  found  him  out,  and  the  iron  grip  of  the  law 
could  not  have  hurt  him  as  he  was  hurt  with  the  knowl 
edge  that  Inez  despised  him. 

"You  think  she  knows  everything?"  he  asked  in  a 
strange  voice,  for  his  tongue  felt  thick  and  heavy. 

"Everything.  The  game  is  up,  and  I  wish  T  had  died 
before  I  began  it ;  died  in  the  old  hogshead  where  I  slept 
when  you  found  me,"  Tom  replied. 

He  was  shaking  with  cold,  notwithstanding  that  drops 
of  sweat  were  on  his  face  and  hands,  and  his  hair  was 
wet  as  if  drenched  with  water. 

"It  is  an  accursed  business,"  he  went  on  rapidly,  "and 
I  am  sorry  I  dragged  you  into  it.  I  was  never  so  bad 
as  some  might  think  and  I  did  it  less  for  gain  than  for 


MARK  AND  TOM,  309 

the  excitement  of  seeing  half  a  dozen  men  cower  before 
a  little  fellow  like  me  and  a  pistol  which  half  the  time 
was  not  loaded.  That  was  the  case  to-day  with  the  re 
volver  Inez  picked  up  and  held  at  my  head  before  she 
pocketed  it.  You  should  have  seen  her  when  she  bade 
me  go  before  she  shot  me  like  a  dog.  I  never  loved  her 
as  I  did  at  that  moment  when  I  knew  I  had  lost  her. 
Once  on  the  road  when  she  seemed  about  to  fall  from 
the  saddle  and  I  tried  to  help  her  she  threatened  to  shoot 
me  again,  reminding  me  that  my  revolver  was  in  her 
pocket.  Do  you  remember  how  I  used  to  stand  on  my 
head  when  anything  sudden  pleased  me?  Well,  I  felt 
like  trying  it  again  when  I  imagined  Inez's  surprise  to 
find  the  chambers  empty  if  she  tried  to  kill  me.  She 
said  you  had  told  her  there  was  murder  in  her  blood. 
Do  you  think  that  Dalton  woman's  fingers  were  tingling 
to  shoot  me?" 

Tom  was  talking  at  random,  scarcely  knowing  what 
he  was  saying.  But  it  did  not  matter.  Mark  was  not 
listening  to  him.  He  had  heard  all  he  cared  to  know 
and  was  wondering  how  he  could  meet  Inez  and  what 
she  would  say  to  him.  He  knew  she  had  gone  to  her 
room,  but  could  hear  no  sound  of  her  moving.  Once 
the  thought  came  to  him,  "Is  she  dead?  Has  the  shock 
killed  her  as  it  did  her  mother?"  and  he  started  to  go  to 
her.  Then  as  he  heard  the  opening  of  a  window  he  re 
sumed  his  seat.  Outside,  the  bay  mare  had  been  patiently 
standing  waiting  to  be  cared  for,  and  at  last,  as  the  care 
did  not  come,  neighing  loudly  and  pawing  on  the  ground. 
Mark  heard  her  and  rising  mechanically  went  out  to  her, 
glad  of  something  to  do,  which  would  for  a  few  moments 
divert  his  mind  from  himself.  Over  the  mare's  stall  a 
halter  was  hanging,  and  Mark  looked  at  it  attentively 
and  tested  its  strength  and  wondered  if  it  would  hold 


310  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

him  and  how  he  would  look  dangling  there,  and  if  his 
feet  would  not  touch  the  floor  and  so  defeat  his  purpose. 
Satan  was  tempting  him  terribly  and  might,  have  won 
the  victory  if  there  had  not  come  to  him  a  second  time 
that  day  thoughts  of  Ridgefield  and  the  old  man  who 
had  loved  and  trusted  him,  and  who,  he  had  no  doubt, 
had  prayed  for  him  when  he  supposed  him  still  alive. 
The  north  piazza  of  the  Prospect  House,  with  Craig  and 
Alice  and  Helen  and  the  pleasant  hours  spent  there 
came  up  before  him  and  brought  the  tears  to  his  hot 
eyes,  cooling  and  healing  and  driving  the  tempter  away. 

"  'Tina's  great-grandson  must  not  hang  himself.  That 
would  be  heredity  with  a  vengeance,"  he  s.aid,  laughing 
an  unnatural  laugh.  "Only  Inez  knows  it,  and  my  whole 
life  shall  be  devoted  to  convincing  her  of  my  repent 
ance,"  he  thought,  as  he  left  the  stable. 

There  was  a  grain  of  comfort  in  this,  and  the  future 
did  not  look  quite  so  dark  as  he  went  back  to  the  house 
and  sat  down  with  Tom,  who  neither  moved  nor  looked 
up  at  him  as  he  came  in.  He,  too,  was  thinking  of  the 
future  and  the  past;  of  Ridgefield  and  his  happy  boy 
hood  there ;  of  Mrs.  Taylor's  teachings,  which,  although 
occasionally  emphasized  with  a  box,  had  lodged  in  his 
memory,  and  were  repeating  themselves  over  and  over 
in  his  brain.  But  beyond  all  this  was  a  thought  of  Alice, 
who  had  been  so  kind  to  him, — who  had  defended  him 
against  Mrs.  Tracy,  saying  there  was  no  harm  in  him 
and  she  would  trust  him  anywhere. 

"What  would  she  think  of  me  now,  all  smirched  and 
stained  as  I  am  ?  Would  she  speak  to  me  as  she  did  that 
morning  when  we  gathered  the  pond  lilies  and  she 
smoothed  my  hair?"  he  thought,  and  his  hand  went  up 
to  his  head  to  the  spot  where  Alice's  hand  had  rested 


MARK  AND  TOM.  311 

so  long  ago.  "I  can  feel  it  yet,"  he  said  to  himself.  "It 
kept  me  then  from  mischief ;  it  shall  help  me  now." 

Then  he  thought  of  Inez.  She  was  lost  to  him  so  far 
as  the  life  he  had  hoped  for  was  concerned.  He  might 
in  time  learn  to  live  without  her,  but  he  could  not  live 
and  see  her  cold  and  hard  towards  him  as  she  had  been 
that  morning. 

"I  would  rather  die,"  he  thought,  "than  know  she 
would  never  again  look  upon  me  except  with  hatred  and 
distrust." 

Had  he  been  in  the  stable  and  seen  the  halter  which 
had  suggested  suicidal  thoughts  to  Mark  there  might 
have  been  a  tragedy  added  to  that  day's  doings.  But 
the  halter  was  out  of  sight  and  Tom  wrestled  with  his 
remorse,  which,  to  do  him  justice,  did  not  arise  alone 
from  the  fact  that  Inez  knew  and  despised  him.  He  was 
genuinely  sorry  and  could  not  understand  how  he  had 
become  what  he  was.  In  his  nature  there  was  enough 
of  hopefulness  for  a  rebound  from  the  depths  of  despair 
if  he  saw  a  ray  of  light,  and  after  sitting  for  more  than 
an  hour  in  perfect  silence  he  arose  and  going  up  to  Mr. 
Hilton  said,  "If  we  were  in  a  boat  that  was  sinking,  we'd 
get  out  of  it,  if  we  could.  Let's  do  so  now.  We  have 
been  on  the  down  track  and  touched  the  bottom.  Let's 
try  the  upward  slope.  Let  us  be  what  the  world  thinks 
we  are, — honorable,  upright  men.  I  have  helped  to  pull 

you  down.     I  will  try  to  help  you  up,  and  maybe 

I  don't  think  I  ought  to  take  His  name  on  my  lips, 
but  you  know  whom  I  mean,  and  He,  perhaps,  will  help 
us.  I  used  to  learn  a  lot  about  Him  in  the  Sunday 
School  in  Ridgefield,  and  it  is  coming  back  to  me  now. 
What  do  you  say  ?  Shall  we  strike  hands  on  a  new  deal  ? 
No  one  knows  but  ourselves  and  Inez.  She  will  not 


312  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

tell.  We  shall  carry  the  burden  of  our  secret  always,  but 
maybe  it  will  grow  lighter  in  time." 

He  offered  his  hand  to  Mr.  Hilton,  who  took  and  held 
it  a  moment,  but  said  nothing.  He  was  still  shifting  the 
blame  to  some  extent  upon  Tom's  shoulders  and  cursing 
himself  for  having  been  so  weak  as  to  be  led  by  him. 
Releasing  Mark's  hand,  Tom  began  walking  across  the 
piazza,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  when  he  touched 
something  hard  and  started  as  if  a  serpent  had  stung 
him. 

"By  George,  I  had  forgotten  this  in  my  excitement," 
he  said,  taking  out  a  small  linen  bag  and  laying  it  upon 
the  table  which  stood  upon  the  piazza.  "See,"  he  con 
tinued,  taking  out  the  diamonds  Fanny  had  guarded  so 
carefully. 

In  an  instant  Mr.  Hilton  was  on  his  feet  and  facing 
Tom  threateningly. 

"Tom,  you  villian !"  he  exclaimed,  "you  robbed  her 
after  all,  and  have  been  prating  to  me  of  a  new  life  and 
Sunday  School  lessons  learned  in  Ridgefield.  You  hypo 
crite,  I  could  strike  you  dead,  if  it  were  not  for  adding 
murder  to  my  other  crimes!  Why  did  you  do  it,  and 
how?" 

Tom  could  not  resent  Mark's  anger,  and  could  scarcely 
speak  aloud  as  he  replied.  "I  don't  know  why  I  did  it. 
When  I  picked  up  her  hat  and  straightened  it  and  felt 
the  stones  something  I  could  not  resist  made  me  take 
them.  My  fingers  tingled  as  they  used  to  do  in  Ridge- 
field  when  I  picked  pockets  for  fun.  A  legion  of  devils 
were  urging  me  on  and  all  the  while  I  was  saying  to 
myself  'I  shall  get  them  back  to  her  somehow,'  and  I 
will.  They  must  be  very  valuable." 

He  held  up  the  ear-rings  which  glowed  and  sparkled 
in  the  sunlight,  emitting  sparks  of  color  which  played 


MARK   AND   TOM.  313 

upon  Mark's  face,  which  was  ghastly  now  with  a  cold 
sweat  standing  upon  it  and  a  look  of  terror  in  his  eyes. 
Surely  he  had  seen  those  jewels  before,— so  large,  so 
white,  so  clear,  and  pear  shaped,  with  the  old  fashioned 
setting  which  Helen  would  never  have  changed.  He 
could  not  be  mistaken.  He  had  seen  them  too  often 
and  clasped  them  in  Helen's  ears  too  many  times  not  to 
know  them  now. 

"Tom,"  he  said  in  a  whisper,  for  his  throat  seemed 
closing  up.  "Tom,  these  are  the  Tracy  diamonds, —  my 
wife's  diamonds.  Don't  you  remember  them?" 

Tom  had  been  too  young  when  he  left  Mrs.  Hilton  to 
know  much  about  her  jewelry.  It  came  back  to  him  now, 
however,  that  her  ear-rings  were  very  large  and  of  a 
peculiar  shape.  These  might  be  the  same,  and  if  so  how 
came  Fanny  Prescott  by  them?  He  put  the  question  to 
Mark,  who  did  not  answer.  The  conviction  that  he  had 
Helen  Tracy's  diamonds  \vas  strengthening  every  mom 
ent,  and  if  so  who  was  Fanny  Prescott?  Something  like 
half  the  truth  began  to  dawn  upon  him,  making  him  so 
faint  that  the  ear-rings  dropped  from  his  hands  and  he 
sat  down  gasping  for  breath.  That  Helen  had  married 
again  and  that  Fanny  was  her  daughter  he  suspected,  but 
not  that  she  was  his.  That  little  child  was  dead.  He  saw 
it  in  the  paper.  This  girl  was  Helen's.  Helen  had  been 
near  him, — in  the  valley. —  past  his  house, — and  he  had 
not  known  it.  He  did  not  care  for  her,  he  thought,  but 
he  did  care  for  her  daughter,  if  the  girl  were  her  daughter. 

"Inez  may  know  something.  I  must  see  her,"  he  said, 
starting  for  her  room. 

Once  on  the  stairs  he  stopped,  afraid  to  meet  her.  Then, 
knowing  it  must  be  he  went  on  and  knocked  at  her  door. 


314  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

CHAPTER  X. 

INEZ  AND   HER   FATHER. 

WHEN  Inez  heard  Tom's  voice  and  saw  him  standing 
near  her  she  knew  him  at  once  and  felt  for  a  moment  as  if 
her  heart  stopped  beating;  then  there  was  a  sensation  as  if 
it  were  turning  over  rapidly,  as  she  had  seen  a  wheel  turn 
in  machinery,  and  swelling  as  it  turned,  until  her  throat 
was  full  and  she  could  not  breathe.  Of  what  happened 
next  she  had  only  a  confused  recollection.  Somebody 
shrieked,  but  whether  it  was  herself,  or  Fanny  she  did  not 
know.  Somebody  leaped  from  the  stage  and  confronted 
Tom  with  a  revolver.  That  was  herself.  She  was  clear 
on  that  point.  She  had  threatened  to  shoot  him  and  knew 
there  was  a  feeling  in  her  heart  which  would  have  let  her 
do  it,  if  he  had  not  gone  as  she  bade  him  go.  Then 
Nero  came,  and  with  him  a  reaction  of  feeling  and  her 
thought  was  to  save  Tom  from  recognition,  for  he  was 
still  the  man  whom  she  loved,  and  she  called  the  dog  back 
and  watched  Tom  till  he  disappeared  from  sight,  strain 
ing  her  eyes  while  he  was  visible  among  the  trees  as  if 
she  would  hold  him  as  long  as  possible,  for  never  again 
could  he  be  to  her  what  he  had  been.  Then  a  great  dark 
ness  came  over  her  and  she  felt  Fanny's  tears  upon  her 
face  and  heard  the  sound  of  many  voices  talking  of  herj 
and  among  them  at  last  Tom's;  Tom,  himself,  in  the 
clothes  he  had  worn  away  that  morning,  when  he  kissed 
her  good-bye,  as  he  would  never  kiss  her  again.  The 
impulse  to  kill  him  was  gone.  She  must  save  him  now 
from  suspicion,  for  more  than  he  was  involved  in  the 
terrible  thing  which  had  happened. 

Rallying  all  her  strength  §he  sa.w  the  stage  depart 


INEZ  AND   HER   FATHER.  315 

leaving  her  alone  with  a  despair  which  made  her  cover 
her  mouth  with  her  hands  lest  she  should  cry  out  and 
bring  her  friends  back  to  her.  With  a  feeling  of  disgust 
she  drew  away  from  Tom's  touch  when  he  would  have 
helped  her  and  felt  again  a  disposition  to  kill  him  if  he 
came  near  her.  All  her  Spanish  and  Mexican  blood  was 
at  fever  heat,  nor  did  it  abate  at  the  sight  of  her  father 
who  was  equally  guilty  with  Tom.  Ignoring  his  offer 
of  help  she  went  at  once  to  her  room  and  threw  herself 
upon  the  bed  in  an  agony  of  despair.  Everything  had 
been  swept  away,  leaving  a  darkness  so  profound  that 
she  could  see  no  light  in  the  past  or  future.  She  loved 
Tom.  She  worshipped  her  father,  and  had  been  so  proud 
of  both,  and  both  were  brigands.  She  said  the  word  to 
herself,  pressing  her  hands  first  upon  her  temples,  which 
throbbed  with  pain  and  then  clasping  them  over  her  heart 
which  burned  like  fire  and  beat  so  loudly  that  she  could 
hear  every  beat  and  thought  it  sounded  like  a  muffled 
drum. 

"Brigands !"  she  repeated,  while  from  every  corner  of 
the  room  the  word  came  back  to  her  till  the  air  was  filled 
with  it. 

She  understood  everything,  for  her  mind  had  gone 
rapidly  over  the  past,  gathering  up  proof  here  and  there 
until  all  was  plain  to  her,- — the  double  lives  of  the  two 
men,  who  were  all  she  had  to  love,  and  the  knowledge 
gave  her  nearly  as  much  shame  as  pain  that  she  should 
have  been  so  deceived.  She  knew  now  why  her  mother 
died  so  suddenly,  with  that  awful  look  on  her  face  as  her 
palsied  tongue  tried  in  vain  to  speak.  She  had  discovered 
the  truth  and  it  had  killed  her. 

"Happy  mother,  to  die !"  she  moaned.  "I  wish  I  could 
die  too.  Oh,  father,  I  thought  you  a  king  among  men, 
and  Tom,  too.  I  was  so  happy  yesterday  and  this  morn- 


316  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS/ 

ing,  with  no  thought  that  I  was  a  brigand's  daughter, — 
that  the  men  I  wished  could  be  caught  and  hung  were 
father  and  Tom !  Oh,  I  cannot  bear  it.  I  feel  like  a  de 
based  creature,  whom  no  one  would  speak  to,  if  he  knew, 
and  I  loved  Fanny  so  much,  and  she  liked  me  some.  But 
that  is  all  over  now.  Tom  meant  to  rob  her,  the  only  girl 
friend  I  ever  had — Oh-h !  I  cannot  bear  it." 

Her  agony  was  intense  as  the  horror  grew  upon  her 
and  she  was  burning  with  excitement  and  fever.  There 
was  a  feeling  in  her  as  if  she  could  not  breathe,  and  every 
heart  beat  was  like  a  heavy  blow.  She  had  opened  a  win 
dow  and  she  tried  to  rise  again  and  go  to  it  for  air,  but 
could  not,  and  she  fell  back  upon  her  pillow  with  her  eyes 
staring  at  the  pointed  ceiling  of  her  room.  It  was  a 
pretty  room,  furnished  with  many  articles  her  father  had 
bought  for  her  and  which  she  knew  were  expensive. 
Fanny  had  liked  it  and  her  presence  there  had  lent  a 
halo  to  everything.  But  Inez  loathed  it  all  now,  knowing 
where  the  money  came  from  which  had  bought  these  lux 
uries  which  a  poor  mountaineer's  daughter  ought  never 
to  have. 

"I  can't  stay  here.  I  must  go  away  and  earn  my  living 
somewhere,"  she  was  thinking,  when  she  heard  her  fa 
ther's  knock  upon  the  door. 

He  was  coming  to  explain,  she  thought,  and  she  did 
not  want  an  explanation.  Nothing  could  change  the 
shameful  facts,  and  she  did  not  look  at  him  as  he  came 
in  and  sat  down  beside  her.  Her  hand  was  lying  near 
him  and  she  drew  it  away  quickly  as  if  afraid  he  might 
take  it.  He  saw  the  motion  and  interpreted  it  aright. 

"Inez,"  he  began,  "have  no  fear  that  I  will  touch  you. 
I  am  not  worthy  to  sit  in  the  same  room  with  you,  and  I 
am  not  here  to  make  excuses ;  I  want  to  ask  what  you 


INEZ   AND    HER   FATHER.  317 

know  about  Fanny  Prescott.  Who  is  she?  I  mean,  who 
was  her  mother  ?" 

Inez  was  too  stupified  and  bewildered  to  wonder  at  her 
father's  question  and  replied,  ''Her  mother  was  a  Miss 
Helen  Tracy,  of  New  York.  Judge  Prescott  was  her 
step-father,  whose  name  she  took  when  her  mother  mar 
ried  him.  Her  own  father  was  a  Mr.  Hilton,  who  was 
killed  in  the  mines  of  Montana  when  Fanny  was  a  baby — 
Father,  father,  what  is  it?  What  is  the  matter?"  she  ex 
claimed,  as  her  father  fell  forward  upon  the  bed.  Every 
thing  was  for  the  time  forgotten  in  her  anxiety  for  him 
as  he  lay  like  one  dead. 

"Tom,  come  quickly,"  she  cried,  "Father  is  dying." 

But  life  was  strong  within  him,  and  he  soon  recovered, 
but  tore  his  cravat  from  his  neck  and  unbuttoned  his  vest 
to  help  his  breathing,  which  was  nearly  as  labored  as 
Inez's  had  been. 

"Tell  me  again  who  she  is !  Tell  all  you  know !" 
he  said,  while  Tom  looked  inquiringly  at  him  and  at 
Inez,  who  repeated  what  she  had  said  of  Fanny  Pres 
cott. 

Tom,  who  was  standing  up,  dropped  into  a  chair  as  if 
he  had  been  shot,  while  Mr.  Hilton  exclaimed,  "Oh,  Inez, 
Fanny  is  my  daughter  and  your  sister !  For  I  am  Mark 
Hilton — married  first  to  Helen  Tracy  and  divorced  when 
our  baby  was  a  few  months  old,  I  thought  she  was  dead. 
I  heard  so.  Oh,  my  daughter,  my  daughter1"  he  cried 
in  alarm  at  the  look  on  Inez's  face  as  she  listened  to  him. 
He  had  told  everything  with  no  thought  of  the  effect  it 
might  have  upon  her.  She  had  borne  all  she  could  bear, 
and  with  this  fresh  blow  she  lay  for  hours,  not  fainting, 
but  dying  it  seemed  to  those  who  cared  for  her  so  ten 
derly, — the  wretched  father,,  the  remorseful  Tom,  the 
kind  neighbors  who  had  been  called  in,  and  the  doctor 


318  THE   TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

summoned  from  a  hotel.  The  news  of  her  bravery  in 
confronting  the  robber  had  spread  rapidly  and  the  shock 
it  must  have  given  her  was  the  cause  assigned  by  the 
physician  for  the  state  in  which  he  found  her.  There 
was  also  heart  difficulty  inherited  from  her  mother,  ag 
gravated  by  the  strain  upon  her  nerves,  he  said.  She  was 
young.  She  might  pull  through,  but  the  utmost  care 
must  be  taken  not  to  excite  her  in  any  way.  All  night 
a  light  shone  from  the  window  of  the  room  where  she 
lay  with  no  sign  of  life  except  a  feeble  fluttering  of  the 
pulse  and  a  low  moan  when  her  father  spoke  to  her. 
Once  when  an  allusion  was  made  by  some  one  to  the 
adventure  on  the  road  and  the  belief  expressed  that  the 
robbers  would  be  captured  if  the  whole  state  rose  up  to 
do  it,  she  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  at  Tom,  who  was 
sitting  at  the  foot  of  her  bed.  Her  lips  moved  with  a 
sound  her  watchers  construed  into  "Do,"  but  which 
Tom,  with  his  senses  quickened  and  on  the  alert,  knew 
was  "Go,"  and  meant  that  he  should  fly  before  he  was 
captured.  But  he  was  not  that  kind  and  would  not 
have  gone  with  Inez  dying  if  he  had  known  that  all  the 
police  in  San  Francisco  were  on  their  way  to  take  him. 

Just  as  day  was  breaking  there  was  a  change  for  the 
better,  and  the  women,  who  had  cared  for  Inez  during 
the  night,  left  with  a  promise  of  returning  as  soon  as 
possible.  When  no  one  was  in  the  room  but  her  father 
Inez  whispered,  "I  want  Fanny." 

"Yes,  daughter,"  Mark  answered,  feeling  himself  a 
strong  desire  to  see  her. 

Then  he  remembered  that  if  he  would  secure  the 
daughter  he  must  meet  her  mother, — once  his  wife. 
Could  he  do  it,  stained  with  sin  as  he  was,  and  to  find 
whom  every  foot  in  the  valley  had  been  gone  over. 
There  were  placards  out  now  he  was  sure  in  San  Fran- 


INEZ   AND    HER   FATHER.  319 

Cisco  and  Stockton,  offering  thousands  of  dollars  for  his 
capture  and  that  of  his  confederate.  He  had  seen  them 
before,  and  with  Tom  had  stopped  and  read  them,  but 
never  with  a  feeling  that  it  was  really  himself  that  was 
meant.  It  had  always  been  somebody  else.  Now  it  zvas 
himself, — Mark  Hilton, — who  was  wanted,  and  he  could 
not  meet  Helen  face  to  face.  It  was  true  she  would  not 
know  the  depths  to  which  he  had  fallen.  She  would 
only  be  surprised  to  find  him  alive  and  very  low  down 
in  the  scale  from  what  he  was  when  she  called  him  her 
husband.  He  could  bear  her  look  of  proud  disdain  after 
her  first  fright  was  over,  but,  knowing  himself  as  he  did, 
he  feared  he  could  not  meet  her  without  betraying  him 
self  in  some  way.  Tom  could  do  it,  and  Tom  must  go. 
But  Tom  refused  outright,  and  Mark  was  nearly  beside 
himself. 

As  the  morning  wore  on  Inez  grew  more  and  more 
restless,  asking  for  Fanny  and  if  she  had  come  and  if 
they  had  sent  for  her.  About  noon  the  doctor  came  and 
found  her  fever  so  high  that  he  said  to  Mr.  Hilton,  "If 
that  young  lady  can  come  she  may  save  your  daughter's 
life." 

Mark  could  hesitate  no  longer.  "I  am  going  for 
Fanny,"  he  said  to  Inez,  and  will  certainly  bring  her 
back." 

He  found  the  hotel  full  of  excited  people,  all  talking  of 
the  hold  up  of  the  previous  day  and  all  inquiring  for 
Inez,  of  whose  serious  illness  they  had  heard  when  the 
morning  stage  from  the  valley  came  in.  He  was  -told 
that  Mrs.  Prescott  was  in  her  room,  but  Fanny  had  gone 
with  a  party  to  visit  the  big  trees. 

"I  am  not  a  card  man  now,"  he  thought,  as  he  said  to 
a  servant,  "Tell  Mrs.  Prescott  that  Mr.  Rayborne  wishes 
to  see  her,"  and  then  sat  down  to  try  to  guiet  his  nerves 


320  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

which  tingled  as  if  red  hot  lead  was  pouring  through 
them. 

It  was  years  since  he  parted  from  Helen  in  bitter 
anger,  but  he  was  not  thinking  of  that  time  now.  His 
thoughts  were  back  in  Ridgefield  and  the  summer  morn 
ing  when  he  saw  her  on  the  north  piazza  and  fell  under 
the  spell  of  her  wonderful  eyes.  He  could  see  the  mis 
chief  in  them  now  as  they  had  looked  when  she  said  to 
Uncle  Zach  "Which  is  Mark  and  which  is  Craig?  You 
did  not  tell  mie."  He  could  see  Craig  dropping  his  straw 
into  his  tumbler  of  lemonade  as  he  sprang  up  to  meet 
her  and  himself  knocking  his  head  against  Craig's  as 
each  seized  the  same  chair  for  her.  He  remembered,  too, 
the  rose  in  her  ribbons  and  knew  that  somewhere  among 
his  belongings  the  faded  leaves  and  dried  calyx  were 
hidden  away.  It  was  strange  how  every  detail  of  that 
morning  came  back  to  him  as  he  sat  waiting  the  return 
of  the  servant,  who,  when  he  came,  said  to  him,  "The 
lady  will  see  you.  Second  floor,  No.  — ,  to  the  right." 


CHAPTER   XL 

MARK  AND  HELEN. 

MRS.  PRESCOTT  had  nearly  recovered  from  the  fright 
of  the  previous  day,  but  had  not  felt  equal  to  joining 
the  party  to  the  Big  Trees.  She  seldom  joined  any  party. 
Her  room  was  comfortable  and  she  preferred  to  stay  in 
it,  and  when  Mark's  message  was  brought  to  her  she  was 
sitting  by  her  window  watching  some  people  who  had 
just  arrived, 


MARK   AND   HELEN.  $21 

"Mr.  Rayborne?"  she  repeated.  "Who  is  he?  I  know 
no  such  man." 

"He  is  the  father  of  the  young  lady  who  saved  the 
coach  yesterday,"  the  servant  replied. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  remember  now.  Show  him  up,"  Mrs. 
Prescott  said,  with  a  feeling  of  annoyance  that  she  was 
to  be  bothered  with  so  commonplace  a  man  as  Mr.  Ray- 
borne  must  be. 

As  she  had  been  in  her  room  all  the  morning  she  had 
not  heard  of  Inez's  illness  and  really  had  not  thought 
much  about  her,  as  the  loss  of  her  diamonds  was  upper 
most  in  her  mind.  Of  course  she  was  grateful  to  her  for 
what  she  had  done  and  by  and  by  when  she  felt  equal 
to  it  she  meant  to  write  her  a  note  and  tell  her  so.  She 
had  contributed  generously  towards  the  watch  to  be 
bought  for  her  and  should  make  her  some  present  on 
her  own  account.  This  she  thought  quite  sufficient 
without  a  call  from  the  father.  Then  it  occurred  to  her 
that  he  might  have  come  with  some  news  of  the  dia 
monds,  or  at  least  he  could  be  of  use  in  rinding  them, 
and  she  was  more  willing  to  see  him. 

"I  wonder  what  kind  of  man  he  is,"  she  thought. 
"Rough,  of  course,  though  they  said  he  was  well  edu 
cated  and  very  gentlemanly  for  a  guide,"  and  immedi 
ately  her  old  nature  began  to  assert  itself. 

There  was  enough  of  coquetry  left  in  her  to  wish  to 
look  her  best  before  any  man.  Going  to  the  glass  she 
pulled  clown  her  frizzes  a  little  more  in  order  to  cover 
some  rather  deep  lines  in  her  forehead, — straightened 
her  collar,  pinched  her  cheeks  to  bring  more  color  to 
them, — threw  a  fleecy  white  shawl  over  her  shoulders  and 
sat  down  with  her  back  to  the  door.  The  carriage  was 
now  driving  away  and  she  was  still  watching  it,  when  a 


322  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

voice  she  had  never  forgotten  and  which  made  her  start 
from  her  chair,  said  to  her  "Helen." 

For  a  few  moments  Mark  had  been  standing  in  the 
open  door  looking  at  her  to  see  if  she  had  greatly 
changed. 

"A  little  faded,  but  very  handsome  still  and  proud  as 
ever,"  he  thought,  as  he  saw  her  profile  and  the  pose  of 
her  head  and  shoulders. 

He  had  loved  her  with  all  the  strength  of  his  youth, 
and  though  there  was  a  gulf  between  them  which  could 
never  be  crossed,  something  of  the  old  feeling  prompted 
by  memories  of  the  summer  days  in  Ridgefield  stirred 
within  him  as  he  watched  her.  She  had  expected  Mr. 
Rayborne  to  knock,  and  at  the  sound  of  her  name  she 
sprang  up  and  turning  looked  for  a  moment  steadily 
at  the  intruder,  while  her  face  grew  white  as  her  shawl. 

"Who  are  you?"  she  asked,  taking  a  step  towards  him. 

"Have  I  changed  past  recognition?  I  should  have 
known  you  anywhere,"  he  replied,  with  a  smile  she  could 
not  mistake. 

"Mark,"  she  whispered,  for  she  could  not  speak  out 
loud,  "How  came  you  here,  when  you  have  been  dead 
so  many  years?" 

"To  you,  yes,"  he  said,  coming  nearer  to  her.  "To 
you,  yes ;  but  very  much  alive  to  myself  and  others. 
That  notice  of  my  death  was  a  mistake.  I  was  not  in 
or  near  the  mine,  but  I  let  it  pass.  I  preferred  to  be 
dead  to  you  and  my  old  life.  With  Jeff  I  came  to 
Southern  California,  taking  another  name  and  marrying 
a  little  Spanish  girl,  Anita 

"Marrying,  when  you  knew  I  was  alive !  Oh,  Mark !" 
Helen  interrupted  him,  while  the  hot  blood  stained  her 
cheeks  and  the  fire  which  leaped  into  her  eyes  made  her 


MARK  AND   HELEN.  323 

like  the  Helen  Tracy  of  his  Chicago  home  when  she  was 
roused. 

Mark  smiled  at  this  flash  of  jealousy  and  replied,  "You 
forget  the  divorce  which  made  me  free  to  marry.  It  was 
kind  in  you  to  see  that  I  had  that  privilege.  You  sent 
me  a  copy  of  the  decree  you  know.  And  then  you  mar 
ried  again.  Why  shouldn't  I?  Anita  was  very  lovely 
and  sweet.  She  is  dead." 

"I  thought  you  dead,  too,"  Helen  replied,  angry  with 
him,  angry  with  poor  little  Anita,  and  angry  at  herself 
for  showing  her  anger.  "Where  did  you  come  from,  and 
why  are  you  here?"  she  asked,  glancing  at  the  door  in 
fear  lest  Fanny  should  come  in. 

"Didn't  the  servant  tell  you  Mr.  Rayborne  wished  to 
see  you?"  Mark  said. 

"Mr.  Rayborne,  yes ;  but  not  Mr.  Hilton.  Are  you 
Mr.  Rayborne  ?  Is  that  the  name  you  took  ?"  she  asked, 
and  he  replied,  "Yes,  I  am  Mr.  Rayborne,  and  I  am  here 
at  Inez's  request.  She  is  very  ill, — dying,  we  fear, — the 
shock  was  so  great.  She  wishes  to  see  her  sister." 

For  an  instant  Mark's  eyes,  which  usually  moved  rap 
idly  from  one  object  to  another,  were  still  and  held  the 
woman  as  if  a  spell  were  thrown  over  her.  With  a  sen 
sation  of  numbness  in  every  limb  Helen  gasped,  "Inez, 
your  daughter !  and  sister  to  my  Fanny !  How  do  you 
know  that?" 

She  was  almost  prepared  to  deny  Fanny's  paternity, 
but  Mark's  reply  prevented  it. 

"Fanny  told  Inez  that  her  own  father,  Mark  Hilton, 
whom  she  could  not  remember,  was  killed  in  the  mines 
of  Montana  and  that  she  took  Judge  Prescott's  name 
when  her  mother  married  him.  Do  I  want  more  proof 
than  that?  I  suppose  you  changed  her  name  from 


324  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

Frances  to  Fanny,  which  was  natural  enough.    Sit  down. 
You  don't  look  able  to  stand." 

He  brought  her  a  chair  and  put  her  in  it  with  his  old 
time  courtesy  of  manner,  while  Helen  began  to  cry.  To 
find  Mark  alive  was  not  so  bad.  Indeed,  she  was  glad, 
for  his  supposed  death  in  the  mines  had  always  weighed 
upon  her  as  something  for  which  she  was  in  part 
responsible.  But  to  find  him  a  guide,  a  mountaineer, 
was  galling  to  her  pride.  Her  Apollo  had  fallen  from 
his  pedestal,  not  only  in  position,  but  in  looks.  He  was 
still  fine  looking,  but  there  were  signs  of  age  about  him 
which  her  quick  eye  detected.  His  hair  was  tinged  with 
grey,  and  he  was  not  as  erect  as  when  he  carried  her 
through  the  rain.  He  had  grown  old  and  Helen  found 
herself  feeling  sorry  for  it  and  sorry  that  he  had  lost 
the  jaunty,  city  air  he  had  when  she  last  saw  him.  All 
this,  however,  was  nothing  to  the  fact  that  he  had  another 
daughter,  who  was  Fanny's  sister  and  whom  Fanny 
would  claim  at  once  if  she  knew  of  the  relationship.  She 
must  not  know,  and  Helen  was  about  to  speak,  when 
Mark  said  to  her,  "You  remember  that  the  divorce  was 
mentioned  at  some  length  in  the  gossipping  papers,  and 
in  one  of  them  sympathy  was  extended  to  you  for  the 
loss  of  your  little  daughter." 

"Yes,"  Helen  answered.  "She  was  very  ill  and  said 
to  be  dead  by  one  of  the  nurses.  The  reporters  were 
very  busy  and  seized  upon  every  item,  whether  true  or 
false.  The  story  was  contradicted  in  the  next  day's 
issue." 

"Just  so.  I  saw  the  first,  and  not  the  last,  and  thought 
her  dead.  With  her  gone  and  you  lost  to  me,  as  you 
were,  and  with  no  home  or  friends,  it  is  not  strange  that 
I  wanted  to  get  away  and  be  forgotten,"  Mark  said. 
"In  California  it  is  comparatively  easy  to  do  this.  For 


MARK  AND  HELEN.  32$ 

a  long  time  I  would  not  look  in  a  New  York  or  Chicago 
paper  if  one  came  in  my  way,  and  so  I  missed  seeing  the 
announcement  of  your  marriage  with  Judge  Prescott  and 
supposed  you  were  still  Mrs.  Tracy,  if  living.  I  believe 
you  dropped  my  name  when  you  dropped  me." 

Helen  assented,  and  he  went  on :  "There  is  no  look  in 
Fanny's  face  like  you,  or  like  me,  but  she  interested  me 
strangely  when  I  saw  her,  and  sent  my  thoughts  back  to 
Ridgefield  and  to  you,  and  the  long  ago,  which  I  could 
wish  blotted  out,  if  it  were  not  for  Fanny  and  the  love 
she  and  Inez  bear  each  other.  I  have  never  heard  a  word 
of  you  since  I  came  to  California  and  did  not  know 
whether  you  were  dead  or  alive.  I  have  avoided  eastern 
people  lest  I  should  stumble  upon  some  one  who  knew 
me.  I  have  acted  as  guide  unwillingly,  for  fear  of  meet 
ing  an  old  acquaintance.  Fortunately  I  never  have.  I 
had  no  suspicion  that  Fanny  was  my  daughter  until  yes 
terday,  when  Inez  came  home,  more  dead  than  alive  and 
I  asked  particularly  about  her  friend.  Inez's  mother  died 
with  heart  trouble,  which  she  inherits.  I  have  always 
known  this  and  tried  to  guard  her  from  strong  excite 
ment.  The  fright  yesterday  was  too  much  for  her  and 
she  does  not  rally  from  it." 

"Does  she  know  of— of — the  relationship?"  Helen 
asked  falteringly,  as  if  the  word  hurt  her  pride. 

"I  told  her  when  I  learned  who  Fanny  was ;  she  is 
very  anxious  to  see  her  sister.  Can  she  go?"  Mark  said. 

"No,  oh  no,"  Helen  cried,  wringing  her  hands.  "She 
must  not  go.  It  would  all  be  known, — the  relationship, 
I  mean.  She  thinks  you  dead.  Let  her  think  so.  She 
knows  all  about  you — way  back." 

"To  Tina?"  Mark  asked,  and  Helen  answered  him, 
"Yes,  to  Tina.  I  told  her  everything  when  Judge  Pres 
cott  died.  I  had  to,  she  was  so  persistent  after  she  knew 


326  THE  TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

a  little.     She  is  to  marry  Roy  Mason,  son  of  Alice  and 
Craig.    You  remember  them?" 

It  was  a  strange  question  to  ask,  and  Mark  laughed 
as  he  answered  it. 

"I  have  reason  to  remember  Craig,  as  he  has  me.  I 
suppose  you  have  met  him  often.  I  should  like  to  have 
seen  the  first  meeting." 

"It  was  nothing  to  see,"  Helen  answered.  "He  was 
Alice's  husband  and  any  love  he  ever  had  for  me  was 
dead,  as  it  should  be." 

"And  you  didn't  try  to  see  if  you  still  had  power  to 
move  him?"  Mark  said  ironically,  while  Helen's  eyes 
flashed  with  anger. 

"What  do  you  take  me  for?  I  had  been  divorced  and 
widowed  as  I  supposed.  I  was  Judge  Prescott's  wife, 
and  we  met  almost  as  strangers.  I  would  as  soon  think 
of  moving  the  Sphinx,  as  I  used  to  call  him,  as  of  moving 
Craig  Mason.  Are  you  satisfied?" 

Mark  bowed  and  asked,  "What  has  Fanny's  engage 
ment  with  Craig's  son  to  do  with  her  going  to  Inez?" 

"Much,"  Helen  replied.  "The  Masons  are  very  proud, 
and  I  don't  know  what  the  result  would  be  if  they  knew 
of  your  change  of  name  and  of  a  daughter  who  would 
claim  relationship  with  Roy.  Leave  Fanny  alone,  I  beg, 
and  go  your  way." 

She  was  standing  before  him  with  tears  in  her  eyes 
which  looked  just  as  beautiful  as  they  had  looked  twenty 
years  ago,  and  he  might  have  yielded  had  there  been  no 
one  but  himself  to  consider.  When  he  remembered  Inez 
he  was  firm  as  a  rock. 

"We  will  let  Fanny  decide.  I  will  wait  for  her,"  he 
said,  and  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

Helen  called  him  back.     She  knew  the  result  if  the 


MARtf  AND   HELEN.  327 

matter  were  left  to  Fanny.  Nothing  could  keep  her  from 
Inez. 

"Mark,"  she  said  again,  going  close  to  him  and  put 
ting  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

He  felt  it  through  his  coat  sleeve  and  wanted  to  take 
it  and  wanted  to  shake  it  off.  He  did  neither  and  said 
to  her,  "Well,  what  is  it  ?" 

"You  are  a  man  of  honor,"  she  replied. 

He  knew  he  wasn't,  but  rejoined,  "Well?" 

"And  you  are  a  gentleman,"  she  continued. 

Mark  thought  of  the  many  times  she  had  told  him  he 
was  not  a  gentleman,  but  he  merely  repeated  the  word 
"Well?"  while  she  went  on:  "If  I  let  Fanny  go,  promise 
not  to  tell  her  who  you  are.  There's  no  knowing  what 
she  would  do,  and  I  could  not  bear  to  have  everything 
come  out  as  it  would  with  Fanny  calling  you  father  and 
all  that.  I  did  many  wrong  things  when  we  lived  to 
gether,  but  I  never  meant  half  as  bad  as  I  talked,  and 
when  I  thought  you  were  killed  in  that  dreadful  way  I 
was  very,  very  sorry.  I  was  going  to  stop  in  Montana 
on  my  way  home  to  see  if  I  could  find  any  one  who 
knew  you.  I  am  telling  you  this  to  show  you  that  I  am 
not  as  bad  as  you  think.  Let  the  past  be  dead  and 
buried,  and  don't  let  Fanny  know.  Will  you,  Mark?" 

She  had  both  hands  on  his  arm  now  and  was  looking 
at  him  with  an  expression  he  could  not  resist. 

"I  promise  that  neither  Inez  nor  I  will  tell  her,"  he 
said,  "but  do  you  know  how  hard  it  will  be  for  me  to 
see  her  and  not  tell  her  I  am  her  father?" 

"Yes,  I  know ;  but  it  is  better  so.  You  must  see  that 
it  is." 

He  did  see  it  when  he  remembered  what  he  was, — a 
man  from  whom  Fanny  would  shrink,  if  the  veil  were 
lifted  as  it  had  been  from  Inez. 


328  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS* 

"Fanny  shall  not  know  from  me,"  he  said,  and  with  this 
fear  gone  Helen  began  to  speak  }f  what  all  the  time  had 
been  in  her  mind, — her  diamonds. 

Had  Mark  heard  that  they  were  lost  from  Fanny's  hat 
and  could  not  be  found?  "My  ear-rings  were  with  them. 
You  remember  them?  I  was  going  to.  give  them  to 
Fanny  on  her  wedding  day." 

Every  word  she  said  cut  like  a  knife,  but  Mark  man 
aged  to  answer  naturally  that  he  had  heard  that  the 
diamonds  were  lost  and  to  assure  her  that  he  would  do 
whatever  he  could  to  find  them  and  so  would  Mr. 
Hardy. 

"Oh,  yes, — Mr.  Hardy, — your  daughter's  fiancee," 
Helen  rejoined, — the  young  man  who  saved  a  coach 
from  being  robbed  as  your  daughter  saved  ours.  Fanny 
thinks  highly  of  him." 

Mark  responded  with  a  bow,  and  something  in  his 
face  made  Helen  ask  quickly,  "Mark,  is  Tom  Hardy 
Jeff?" 

"Yes,  but  let  him  stay  Tom  Hardy  until  he  chooses 
to  declare  his  identity  himself.  He  will  try  to  trace  your 
diamonds,"  Mark  said,  in  a  constrained  voice. 

Helen  bowed  her  acquiescence,  but  looked  puzzled. 
Everything  was  puzzling, — everything  annoying, — and 
her  brain  was  in  a  whirl,  making  her  wish  to  be  alone. 

"Good  bye,"  she  said  to  Mark,  bowing  him  from  the 
room.  "It  is  too  late  for  Fanny  to  go  to  the  cottage 
to-night,  but  you  will  see  her  to-morrow.  Remember 
your  promise." 

She  was  trembling  so  she  could  scarcely  stand,  and 
when  he  was  gone  she  threw  herself  upon  the  couch  and 
sobbed  hysterically  for  the  trouble  which  had  come  upon 
her  so  unexpectedly.  In  the  heyday  of  her  youth  and 
beauty,  when  her  path  was  strewn  with  bruised  hearts 


MARK   AND    HELEN.  329 

she  had  asked  ironically  if  there  were  not  a  passage  in 
the  Bible  which  said  "  'Vengeance  is  mine,  I  will  repay,' 
saith  the  Lord."  When  Mark  deserted  her  and  she  went 
through  the  notoriety  of  a  divorce,  she  had  felt  that  she 
was  being  paid,  but  that  was  nothing  to  this  last  instal 
ment  of  the  payment,  and  the  proud  woman  writhed 
under  the  chastisement,  indignant  at  Mark, — she  scarcely 
knew  for  what,  unless  it  was  for  having  married  Anita, 
and  indignant  at  Inez  for  being  Fanny's  half  sister.  It 
was  some  time  before  Fanny  came,  and  when  she  did  she 
found  her  mother  in  bed  in  a  chill,  with  cramped  hands, 
blue  lips  and  cold  feet,  and  Celine  attending  to  her  with 
hot  drinks  and  hot  water  bags  and  shawls.  It  was  some 
time  before  Mrs.  Prescott  was  sufficiently  quiet  to  tell 
her  of  Mr.  Rayborne's  visit  and  Inez's  serious  illness. 

"I  dare  say  he  exaggerated  the  case  and  probably  the 
girl  is  better  by  this  time,"  she  said.  "I  promised  you 
should  go  and  see  her  to-morrow,  but  if  I  feel  as  I  do 
now,  I  cannot  allow  it." 

Fanny,  who  had  heard  of  Inez's  illness  before  she  came 
up  to  her  mother,  made  no  reply,  but  in  her  little  wilful 
heart  she  said  "I  shall  go,"  and  she  did.  She  knew  her 
mother's  nervous  condition,  which  she  could  not  under 
stand,  would  not  last  long,  and  that  Celine  would  do  all 
that  was  necessary.  Probably  she  should  not  stay  more 
than  the  day.  It  would  depend  upon  how  she  found 
Inez,  she  said  to  her  mother,  at  whose  bedside  she  stood 
just  as  it  was  growing  light.  It  was  a  long  drive  to  the 
cottage,  and  as  she  wished  for  as  much  time  as  possible 
with  Inez  she  had  stipulated  with  the  landlord  to  have 
a  conveyance  ready  for  her  at  a  very  early  hour. 

"Good  bye,  mother,"  she  said,  "I  am  going  now.  You 
look  a  great  deal  better  than  you  did  last  night.  Celine 
will  take  good  care  of  you  till  I  come  back.  Good  bye," 


33O  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

She  stooped  and  kissed  her  and  then  hurried  away, 
while  Helen  began  to  cry,  not  so  much  because  Fanny 
had  gone,  as  from  a  growing  conviction  that  the  truth 
would  come  out,  and  then,  what  might  not  Fanny  do? 
Acknowledge  her  father,  of  course,  and  probably  insist 
upon  taking  Inez  to  New  York  and  introdvicing  her  as 
her  sister.  The  thought  brought  on  a  nervous  headache 
which  kept  her  in  bed  all  day,  bemoaning  her  fate  and 
wishing  she  had  never  come  to  California.  Mark  would 
keep  his  word,  she  was  sure,  but  she  distrusted  Jeff, 
whom  she  had  never  liked.  And  he  was  Tom  Hardy, 
and  Mark  was  Mr.  Rayborne.  The  change  of  names 
affected  her  unpleasantly  and  when  at  last  she  fell  asleep 
they  kept  repeating  themselves  over  and  over  in  her 
troubled  brain, — Mr.  Rayborne  and  Tom  Hardy. 


CHAPTER   XII. 

FANNY  AND  INEZ. 

INEZ,,  who  had  passed  a  restless  night,  had  been  told 
the  conditions  on  which  Fanny  was  permitted  to  come  to 
her,  and  this  detracted  somewhat  from  her  anticipated 
pleasure  in  having  her  there.  But  her  father  had  given 
his  word,  and  it  was  sacred  to  her.  All  night  Mark  had 
staid  by  her,  while  Tom  sat  outside,  trying  to  devise 
some  means  of  returning  the  diamonds  without  exciting 
suspicion.  He  could  hear  Inez  every  time  she  moved  or 
spoke,  and  that  was  some  comfort.  Once,  during  an 
interval  when  the  pain  in  her  heart  was  not  so  great, 
she  said  to  her  father,  "Tell  me  how  it  happened,  and 


FANNY   AND   INEZ.  33! 

when?  The  other  marriage,  I  mean,  and  tell  me  about 
Tom, — when  he  was  somebody  else." 

Mark,  who  shrank  from  this  ordeal  which  he  had 
feared  might  come,  said  to  her,  "You  are  not  strong 
enough,  daughter.  Wait  awhile." 

"No,"  she  answered.  "There  is  no  waiting  for  me. 
I  want  to  know  now  how  you  camt  to  marry  that  proud 
lady.  Were  you  like  her  ?  Like  her  people,  I  mean  ?  and 
was  Tom  with  you?" 

Very  briefly  Mark  told  as  much  of  his  story  as  he 
thought  necessary,  omitting  'Tina  and  the  finding  of 
Tom  in  Boston  where  he  rescued  him  from  the  street. 
Everything  was  softened  and  the  life  at  Ridgefield  dwelt 
upon  at  length,  while  Inez  listened  as  to  an  interesting 
romance.  It  did  not  seem  quite  real  to  her  that  her 
father  was  once  in  a  position  so  different  from  that  which 
he  now  occupied.  The  change  of  names  troubled  her 
and  twice  she  repeated  "Mark  Hilton, — Jefferson 
Wilkes,"  as  if  accustoming  herself  to  the  sound.  Once 
when  her  father  made  an  allusion  to  the  present  as  if  to 
explain,  she  said,  "No,  no.  I  cant'  bear  that,  now  or 
ever.  There  is  no  excuse.  You  are  my  father,  and  I 
must  love  you  always, — and  Tom,  who  is  not  Tom 
at  all!" 

Tom  was  on  his  feet  and  in  the  room  in  a  moment, 
standing  where  she  could  not  see  him,  as  she  went  on 
very  slowly,  for  her  breathing  was  difficult. 

"It  seems  odd,  but  I  am  glad  you  were  once  a  gentle 
man  like  those  at  the  hotel,  and  lived  in  a  grand  house 
like  Fanny's,  but  I  like  better  to  hear  of  the  woods  and 
river  and  meadows  and  ponds  in — what  was  the  place  ? — 
WTiere  Tom  gathered  the  lilies." 

"Ridgefield,"  Mark  replied,  trying  to  stop  her  as  he 
§aw  how  exhausted  she  seemed. 


332  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"Let  me  talk  while  I  can/'  she  said.  "I  can't  speak  of 
the  past  when  Fanny  comes  if  she  is  not  to  know  you 
are  her  father.  No  one  need  to  know  it  or  the  change 
of  names.  You  are  Mr.  Rayborne,  and  Tom  is  Tom. 
I  cannot  hink  of  him  as  Jeff,  or  you  as  Mr.  Hilton.  You 
are  father  and  he  is  Tom  till  I  die." 

"She  does  care  for  me  a  little.  Thank  God  for  that," 
Tom  thought,  as  he  crept  back  to  his  post  on  the  stairs. 

It  was  beginning  to  get  light,  and  not  long  after  sun 
rise  a  buggy  driven  by  an  employee  from  Clark's  stopped 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  leading  to  the  cottage.  Mark  saw 
Fanny  as  she  ran  up  the  path,  and  went  to  meet  her. 
In  her  flushed,  eager  face  there  was  a  look  which  he  had 
seen  often  in  his  own  face  when  he  was  a  boy,  and  this 
it  was  which  made  him  call  her  "My  child"  as  he  led  her 
into  the  house  and  told  her  how  low  Inez  was  and  how 
necessary  that  she  should  be  kept  quiet  and  not  excited  in 
any  way. 

"Her  mother  died  of  heart  trouble.  Inez  may  go  the 
same  way  if  we  are  not  careful,"  he  said. 

"I  will  be  very  careful,"  Fanny  answered,  as  she  fol 
lowed  him  to  Inez's  room. 

The  curtains  were  drawn  over  the  windows,  but  it  was 
light  enough  for  Fanny  to  see  the  great  change  in  Inez. 
Her  eyes  were  sunken,  but  unnaturally  bright.  There 
was  a  drawn  look  about  her  mouth  and  her  cheeks  had 
lost  much  of  their  roundness,  but  were  red  with  fever 
spots,  which  contrasted  sharply  with  the  pallor  of  her 
lips. 

"Fanny,  oh  Fanny!  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come," 
she  said,  trying  to  rise  and  opening  and  shutting  her 
fingers  rapidly.  Then  exerting  all  her  strength  she 
threw  her  arms  around  Fanny's  neck  and  burst  into 
tears  while  her  father  tried  to  quiet  her,  ^Don't  stop 


FANNY   AND   INEZ.  333 

me,"  she  said.  "I  must  cry  or  my  heart  will  burst,  and 
my  head,  too, — it  aches  so  hard.  Fanny,  Fanny !  You 
don't  know  all  your  coming  to  me  means.  Now  put  me 
back  on  my  pillow  and  sit  where  I  can  see  you  without 
turning  my  eyes.  I  am  tired  all  over." 

Her  arms  fell  helpless  on  the  bed  and  she  scarcely 
seemed  to  breathe. 

"I  don't  understand  it,"  Fanny  said  in  a  low  tone  to 
Mr.  Hilton. 

Inez  heard  her  and  before  her  father  could  reply  she 
whispered,  "Don't  try  to  understand,  or  speak  of  it. 
Just  sit  by  me." 

All  day  Fanny  sat  by  her,  knowing  that  whenever 
Inez's  eyes  were  open,  they  were  fixed  on  her  with  a  look 
which  began  to  make  her  uncomfortable. 

"What  is  it,  Inez?  Is  there  something  you  want  to 
tell  me?"  she  asked  at  last. 

Inez  did  not  answer  at  once,  but  her  hand  moved 
slowly  towards  Fanny's,  which  chanced  to  be  lying  on 
the  bed  near  her.  For  a  time  she  regarded  it  intently, 
evidently  contrasting  its  whiteness  and  softness  with  her 
own  larger  brown  hands. 

"We  are  not  much  alike,  but  you  love  me  and  are 
not  ashamed  of  me,"  she  said. 

"Ashamed  of  you !"  Fanny  repeated.  "Why  should 
I  be?" 

"And  you  will  stay  with  me?  It  can't  be  long,"  Inez 
continued. 

"Yes,  I  will  stay,"  Fanny  answered  involuntarily. 

Then  she  remembered  her  mother,  who  was  expecting 
her  back  that  night,  or  the  next  day,  at  the  farthest. 
What  would  she  say? 

"I'll  stay  a  week  any  way.  Inez  must  be  better  by 
that  time,"  she  thought,  and  wrote  to  her  mother  tQ 


334  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

that  effect,  suggesting  that  if  she  were  not  comfortable 
at  Clark's  she  go  on  to  San  Francisco,  where  she  would 
join  her  later. 

Mrs.  Prescott  was  greatly  agitated  when  she  received 
this  note,  and  insisted  that  Celine  should  go  to  the  cot 
tage  and  bring  Fanny  away.  She  would  have  gone  her 
self,  but  for  the  dread  of  meeting  Mark  again  and  being 
compelled  to  see  Inez  and  possibly  Tom.  She  could  not 
go,  but  Celine  must.  Celine,  who  had  been  in  the  family 
since  Helen  was  a  young  lady,  understood  her  perfectly, 
and  understood  Fanny  too.  If  the  latter  had  made  up 
her  mind  to  stay  with  Inez,  she  would  stay,  and  after  a 
little  she  succeeded  in  making  her  mistress  see  that  it 
was  better  to  let  her  daughter  alone. 

"But  I  shall  not  go  to  San  Francisco  and  leave  her 
behind.  I  am  very  comfortable  here  and  shall  stay  till 
§he  joins  me,"  Mrs.  Prescott  said,  adding  after  a  mo 
ment's  thought,  "I  don't  know  what  the  surroundings 
are  at  that  cottage.  Plain,  of  course,  and  not  what  Fanny 
is  accustomed  to.  She  will  be  worn  out  with  the  watch 
ing  and  the  change.  I  think  you'd  better  go  and  see 
to  her." 

This  was  a  great  concession  and  Fanny  felt  it  as  such 
when  she  received  her  mother's  letter  offering  Celine. 

"It  is  kind  in  you,  mamma,"  she  wrote  in  reply,  "but 
Celine  is  not  necessary.  There  is  a  woman  in  the  kitchen 
and  I  don't  know  what  I  should  do  with  a  maid.  I  am 
waited  on  now  by  everybody  as  if  I  were  a  princess,  and 
Inez  couldn't  see  strangers.  Keep  Celine  for  yourself, 
and  don't  worry  about  me." 

After  the  receipt  of  this  note  Mrs.  Prescott  settled 
down  to  wait  Fanny's  pleasure  and  fret  at  the  prolonged 
delay.  Inez  did  not  improve,  except  that  her  voice  was 
a  little  stronger  and  Fanny  could  talk  with  her  longer 


FANNY    AND    INEZ.  335 

at  a  time  and  not  tire  her.  One  day  after  the  stage  had 
passed  Tom  brought  a  small  package  sent  from  San 
Francisco  to  Inez  in  care  of  her  father.  It  was  the 
watch  which  a  lady  had  been  commissioned  to  buy  as  a 
testimonial  of  the  gratitude  of  the  passengers  who  had 
been  in  the  stage  on  the  day  of  the  hold  up.  Fanny  had 
hoped  to  select  it  herself,  but  when  she  saw  it  she  felt 
that  she  could  not  have  chosen  better.  It  was  a  little 
diamond  jeweled  stem  winder,  with  Inez's  name  on  the 
inside  lid  and  the  date  of  the  hold  up. 

"Something  for  you  from  San  Francisco,"  Fanny  said 
as  she  put  the  box  on  the  bed  before  Inez,  whose  eyes 
grew  very  bright  and  questioning  when  she  saw  what  it 
contained. 

"A  watch  !  the  thing  I  have  always  wanted.  How  did 
it  come  to  me?  I  don't  understand,"  she  said. 

Fanny  explained  why  it  was  sent  and  how  glad  the 
passengers  were  to  send  it.  It  wai  the  first  time  any 
allusion  had  been  made  to  the  attempted  robbery.  Mr. 
Hilton  had  warned  Fanny  not  to  speak  of  it  and  she 
had  been  careful  not  to  do  so.  Now  she  said  as  little 
as  possible  and  was  glad  that  Inez  did  not  seem  greatly 
excited. 

"I'll  keep  it  under  my  pillow,"  she  said,  and  several 
times  that  day  Fanny  saw  her  looking  at  it,  particularly 
at  her  name  and  the  date.  "I  wish  'July  --'  wasn't  there. 
It  brings  the  dreadful  day  back  to  me,  and  I  see  him  and 
hear  him  and  hear  my  scream,  which  must  have  filled  the 
valley,"  she  said. 

"You  will  get  over  that  when  you  are  stronger,"  Fanny 
suggested. 

"Maybe,"  Inez  replied,  and  Fanny  noticed  that  after 
that  the  watch  lay  a  little  away  from  her  instead  of  under 
her  pillow. 


336  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

The  next  morning  Inez  handed  it  to  her,  saying,  "Will 
you  think  me  foolish  if  I  ask  you  to  take  it  away.  Doesn't 
it  tick  very  loudly  ?" 

Fanny  did  not  think  so,  and  Inez  continued:  "I  had 
father  put  it  on  the  bureau  and  the  table  and  at  last  in 
the  drawer  last  night,  but  I  could  hear  it  saying  'halt, 
halt,'  just  as  he  said  it.  I  am  sorry,  but  I  can't  bear  it. 
Take  it  away." 

With  a  feeling  of  disappointment  Fanny  took  it  from 
her  and  said,  "Shall  I  give  it  to  Mr.  Hardy  to  keep  for 
you  until  you  are  better?" 

"No,  no;  oh  no,  not  to  Tom;  anything  but  that," 
Inez  exclaimed,  and  greatly  puzzled  Fanny  put  the 
watch  in  her  travelling  bag  down  stairs  where  she  was 
sure  the  fancied  halt  could  not  be  heard. 

Inez's  attitude  towards  Tom  had  troubled  Fanny  from 
the  first.  She  never  asked  for  him,  and  if  he  came  into 
her  room  and  spoke  to  her,  his  visit  was  sure  to  be 
followed  by  a  chill,  or  headache.  At  last  Fanny  spoke  of 
it  to  Mr.  Rayborne,  who  replied,  "Inez  is  rather  fanciful. 
It  is  part  of  the  disease  to  turn  against  your  best  friend. 
Perhaps  Tom  had  better  stay  away."  After  that  he  staid 
away,  but  Fanny  frequently  found  him  near  the  door 
when  she  went  out  and  in. 

"I  am  here  to  see  if  there  is  anything  I  can  do,"  he 
said  in  explanation,  offering  to  go  for  whatever  she 
wanted  and  saving  her  many  steps  up  and  down  the 
stairs. 

Towards  her  father  Inez's  manner  was  different.  She 
seldom  spoke  to  him,  but  she  allowed  him  to  sit  by  her 
and  once  she  took  his  hand  with  a  look  in  her  eyes 
which  he  could  not  misunderstand,  and  he  said  to  her, 
"Yes,  daughter,  I  promise  before  Heaven  that  work  is 
finished  for  me  and  Tom,  too.  I  can  answer  for  him." 


THE   SISTERS.  337 

Fanny's  step  was  heard  outside  and  he  stopped  ab 
ruptly,  but  Inez  seemed  brighter  and  better  for  what  he 
had  said.  He  was  constantly  in  the  sick  room,  fre 
quently  sitting  in  the  shadow  where  he  could  see  not 
only  the  fever  stained  face  with  the  sunken  eyes  in  which 
the  shadow  of  a  great  horror  was  still  visible,  but  the 
fair,  blue  eyed  girl  who  filled  him  with  pride  and  an 
intense  desire  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and  call  her  his 
daughter. 


CHAPTER   XIII. 

THE  SISTERS. 

TEN  days  passed  and  there  was  no  real  improvement 
in  Inez.  Occasionally  she  would  rally  and  inquire  about 
the  household  matters,  showing  that  she  had  some  inter 
est  in  them,  but  these  moments  were  always  followed  by 
sinking  spells  when  life  seemed  nearly  extinct.  The  doc 
tor  was  greatly  perplexed. 

"A  strong  girl  like  her  ought  not  to  be  so  affected  by 
a  scare,"  he  said.  "I  don't  understand  it.  She  seems 
to  have  lost  her  grip  and  makes  no  effort  to  get  hold  of 
it,  and  then  the  weather  is  against  her." 

It  was  very  hot  those  July  days,  hotter  and  dryer  than 
it  had  been  in  the  valley  for  years,  and  Fanny  began  at 
last  to  droop  in  the  heat  and  confinement.  They  sent  to 
Stockton  for  a  nurse  and  this  relieved  Fanny  from  her 
constant  watch  in  the  sick  room,  where  Inez  lay  a  part 
of  the  time  half  unconscious  of  what  was  passing  around 
her  and  talking  very  low  to  herself.  Once  Fanny  thought 
she  caught  the  word  Ridgefield  and  wondered  how  Inez 
knew  anything  of  that  place. 


338  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS, 

"I  mean  to  ask  Mr.  Rayborne,"  she  thought,  and  went 
to  find  him. 

The  sun  was  setting  and  a  cool  breeze  was  blowing 
down  from  the  mountains  and  she  stepped  out  upon  the 
piazza  for  a  moment  to  enjoy  it.  While  there  she  heard 
Mr.  Rayborne  and  Tom  enter  the  sitting  room  from  the 
kitchen.  They  were  talking  of  her,  and  Tom's  voice  was 
rather  loud  as  he  said,  "I  think  it  a  shame  that  for  the 
whim  of  a  proud  woman  you  cannot  tell  her  that  you 
are  her  father  and  Inez  her  half  sister !  Do  you  think 
she  would  be  ashamed  of  you?  She  is  not  that  kind." 

For  a  moment  Fanny  felt  as  if  she,  too,  had  heart 
disease.  She  could  not  move  and  there  was  a  prickly 
sensation  in  her  hands  and  feet.  Then  she  recovered 
herself,  and  in  a  moment  was  confronting  Mr.  Rayborne 
with  the  question,  "Are  you  Mark  Hilton,  and  is  Inez 
my  half  sister?" 

Mark  could  not  reply,  but  Tom  did  it  for  him.  "I 
am  bound  by  no  promise,"  he  said,  "and  will  tell  you  the 
truth.  He  is  Mark  Hilton,  your  father  if  Helen  Tracy 
is  your  mother.  He  was  not  killed  in  the  mines,  and 
Inez  is  your  half  sister.  She  knows  it  and  your  mother 
knows  it,  but  would  only  permit  you  to  come  here  on  the 
condition  that  you  were  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  rela 
tionship.  I  am  hampered  by  no  conditions.  I  have 
told  you  and  it  may  save  Inez's  life." 

Tom  had  freed  his  mind  and  walked  from  the  room, 
leaving  father  and  daughter  alone.  Mark  waited  for 
Fanny  to  speak  first,  but  she  could  not.  The  prickly 
sensation  had  returned.  Her  tongue  felt  thick  and  her 
hands  cold  and  stiff.  She  had  thought  so  much  of  her 
own  father  since  she  heard  of  him,  and  had  pictured  him 
often  in  her  mind  as  the  Apollo  her  mother  had 
described.  She  had  regretted  that  she  could  not  rcmcm- 


THE  SISTERS. 

ber  him,  and  now  he  was  here  before  her,  and  was  not 
at  all  like  her  idea  of  him,  nor  at  all  like  Judge  Prescott, 
nor  Roy,  nor  any  man  she  had  ever  known  socially. 
He  was  still  fine  looking,  with  the  manners  of  a  gentle 
man,  but  he  was  a  miner, — a  stage  driver^ — a  guide,— 
with  another  name  than  his  own.  All  this  passed  through 
her  mind,  and  with  it  a  thought  of  'Tina.  There  was 
some  proud  blood  of  the  Tracys  in  her  veins,  and  for  a 
Second  it  asserted  itself  strongly.  Then,  with  a  long 
breath,  like  one  shaking  off  a  nightmare,  she  went  for 
ward  and  said,  "If  you  are  my  father, — kiss  me  I" 

Mark  felt  as  if  all  his  life  which  he  would  forget  were 
slipping  from  him  and  leaving  him  the  man  he  used  to 
be,  while  he  held  his  daughter  to  him  and  cried  over 
her  as  if  his  heart  were  breaking.  When  he  grew  calm 
he  told  her  all  he  wished  her  to  know  of  himself  since 
he  parted  from  her  mother,  whom  he  screened  as  far  as 
possible  from  blame.  After  her  father  left  her  Fanny 
returned  to  the  piazza,  and  sat  down  alone  to  think  and 
try  to  realize  what  she  had  heard  and  the  new  position 
in  which  it  had  placed  her.  One  fact  stood  out  vividly 
before  her.  I  tie  2  was  her  sister,  and  she  was  glad,  and 
began  to  build  castles  of  the  future  when  Inez  would  be 
able  to  go  to  New  York.  No  thought  of  separation 
occurred  to  her.  Inez  was  hers  to  care  for.  With  the 
advantages  of  a  city  she  would  make  a  brilliant  and 
beautiful  woman.  She  was  much  younger  than  she 
looked.  A  year  or  two  at  school  would  be  desirable  and 
then  she  would  live  with  Fanny  and  Roy,  "and  marry 
Tom?"  Fanny  whispered  interrogatively. 

There  was  no  one  to  hear, — no  one  to  answer, — except 
Fanny  herself,  who  began  to  rebel  against  a  marriage 
which  before  had  seemed  suitable  enough,  if  the  parties 
were  satisfied.  She  had  admired  Tom  for  his  apparent 


340  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

bravery,  his  pleasant  face  and  genial  manner,  but  as  a 
brother-in-law  he  was  not  so  desirable.  She  could  mould 
and  cultivate  Inez,  but  not  Tom.  He  was  too  old.  She 
must  take  him  as  he  was,  if  she  took  him  at  all;  not  as 
Tom  Hardy  either,  but  as  Jeff  Wilkes,  who,  her  mother 
had  told  her,  was  a  strange  boy  with  strange  ways, 
whom  she  had  never  liked.  That  her  father  had  changed 
his  name  displeased  her,  but  she  did  not  resent  it  in  him 
as  much  as  she  did  in  Tom,  who  she  felt  nearly  sure  had 
suggested  it.  But  he  was  Inez's  fiancee.  She  must  accept 
him  and  make  Roy  accept  him,  too.  She  did  not  antici 
pate  much  trouble  there.  Roy  would  think  what  she 
wished  him  to  think,  and  Tom  was  really  better  looking 
than  half  the  men  of  her  acquaintance  if  they  were  shorn 
of  their  city  dress.  This  comforted  her,  and  when  at 
last  Tom  came  out  and  talked  to  her  as  he  could  talk 
when  he  chose,  she  began  to  feel  quite  reconciled  to  him 
as  a  prospective  brother-in-law. 

It  was  too  late  for  her  to  see  Inez  that  night,  but  very 
early  in  the  morning  she  was  at  her  bedside,  calling  her 
sister  and  telling  her  how  glad  she  was  and  that  now 
she  must  get  well  fast  so  as  to  go  to  New  York  in  Sep 
tember,  when  she  and  her  mother  went  home. 

"No,  Fanny,"  Inez  said.  "I  shall  never  go  to  New 
York.  It  is  lovely  in  you  to  suggest  it  and  to  be  glad  I 
am  your  sister.  You  don't  know  what  joy  it  is  to  have 
you  call  me  so,  and  to  believe  you  love  me.  In  some 
circumstances  I  might  have  gone  with  you  for  a  while, 
for  I  should  like  to  see  the  eastern  world  where  father  and 
Tom  were  born.  He  must  be  Tom  to  me  always,  and  it 
will  not  be  long.  I  am  going  as  mother  did,  only  not  so 
sudden.  I  am  younger  and  stronger,  but  I  know  I  am 
dying.  I  feel  as  if  part  of  me  were  dead  already  and 
there  is  nothing  to  rally  from.  The  tree  struck  with 


THE  SISTERS.  341 

lightning  twice  does  not  recover.  I  have  been  struck 

twice,  once  in  the  stage  when oh,  Fanny,  I  can't  talk 

of  that  without  my  heart  standing  still.  The  second 
shock  was  different  and  came  when  I  heard  that  father 
and  Tom  were  somebody  else,  and  you  my  sister.  I  was 
so  weak  that  it  was  like  another  blow.  For  your  sake 
I'd  like  to  live,  although  our  paths  would  be  apart. 
Yours  in  the  great,  busy  world,  and  mine  here  with 
father.  I  wish  I  could  see  your  Roy,  but  it  is  too  much 
to  think  he  would  come  across  a  continent." 

Inez  had  thought  all  this  out  the  previous  night  after 
her  father  told  her  that  Fanny  knew  of  the  relationship, 
and  now  that  she  had  said  it  she  sank  into  a  state  of 
great  exhaustion,  during  which  Fanny  staid  by  her 
and  every  time  she  put  her  hand  on  Inez's  head, 
or  spoke  her  name,  the  sick  girl's  eyes  opened  with  an 
expression  of  unutterable  joy,  and  the  pale  lips  whispered 
"My  sister !" 

That  night  Fanny  wrote  to  her  mother:  "I  know 
everything  from  'Tina  to  the  present  time.  Tom  has 
told  me  that  Mr.  Rayborne  was  Mark  Hilton,  my  father, 
and  Inez  my  sister.  My  .father  told  me  the  rest,  and  I 
do  not  believe  there  is  anything  more  for  me  to  learn 
about  myself.  At  first  I  prickled  all  over  and  could 
scarcely  speak.  Now  I  am  very  calm  and  glad  and 
should  be  happy  if  Inez  were  not  so  low.  I  think  she 
is  going  to  die,  and  I  cannot  leave  her.  I  shall  write  to 
Roy  to-morrow  and  tell  him  everything.  I  hope  he  will 
come.  I  want  him  to  see  Inez." 

After  this  Fanny  devoted  herself  entirely  to  Inez,  tak 
ing  quite  as  much  care  of  her  as  the  hired  nurse.  But 
it  was  of  no  avail.  Inez  grew  weaker  every  day  and  baf 
fled  both  the  physician  from  Stockton  and  the  specialist 
from  San  Francisco,  who  had  been  called  to  see  her. 


342  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

That  there  was  serious  heart  trouble,  complicated  with 
slight  paralysis,  both  agreed,  but  neither  could  under 
stand  why  the  stage  fright  alone  should  have  affected  her 
so  strangely.  If  love  and  care  and  tenderness  could  have 
given  her  back  her  life  she  would  have  had  it,  but  no 
thing  could  save  her.  Every  night  she  seemed  weaker, 
and  every  morning  her  face  looked  thinner  and  her 
hands  more  transparent  as  they  lay  just  where  they  were 
put,  for  she  had  but  little  power  to  move  them  now. 

"They  are  almost  as  white  as  yours,  but  not  so  small," 
she  said  one  afternoon  to  Fanny,  who  was  rubbing  and 
bathing  them.  "They  have  been  strong  hands  and  done 
a  heap  of  work,  but  will  never  do  any  more,  and  it  is 
better  so.  I've  thought  it  all  over  and  do  not  want  to 
live.  I'd  rather  go  to  mother,  who  is  waiting  for  me. 
She'll  be  glad  to  see  me.  I  know  what  you  want  to  say," 
she  went  on  as  Fanny  tried  to  interrupt  her.  "You  would 
take  me  to  New  York  and  try  to  make  a  lady  of  me  like 
yourself.  But  I  am  not  like  your  people.  I  could  never 
be  like  them  and  they  would  wonder  how  you  came  to 
have  a  sister  like  me,  and  tongues  would  be  busy  and  you 
would  feel  hurt,  and  Roy,  too.  I  should  like  to  see  him 
before  I  die.  Do  you  think  he  will  come?" 

Fanny  had  not  heard  from  him  since  she  wrote  and 
told  him  of  Inez  and  her  father  and  it  was  time  she  re 
ceived  a  letter.  She  was  quite  sure,  however,  that  he 
would  come,  "and  take  me  by  surprise,  most  likely,"  she 
said  to  Inez,  who  was  exhausted  and  disposed  to  sleep. 
Fanny,  too,  felt  the  need  of  rest  and  air  and  went  out 
upon  the  piazza  to  enjoy  the  sunset.  She  was  very  tired 
and  a  little  homesick,  with  a  great  longing  for  Roy.  "If 
he  would  only  come,"  she  was  thinking,  when  in  answer 
to  her  thought  Roy  came  rapidly  up  the  walk  and  stood 
at  her  side. 


ROY.  343 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

ROY. 

FANNY'S  letter  had  reached  him  in  Ridgefield,  where, 
with  his  father  and  mother,  he  was  spending  a  few  days 
at  the  Prospect  House.  Its  contents  electrified  them  all 
and  no  one  more  than  Uncle  Zach. 

"Mark  and  Jeff  both  alive !"  he  said.  "I  never  b'lieved 
Jeff  was  dead.  He  ain't  the  kind,  but  for  Mark,  that  I 
sot  such  store  by  not  to  be  killed  is  queer  and  I've 
mourned  for  him  as  I  would  for  Johnny.  And  he  took 
another  name,  and  married  another  woman  and  had  an 
other  girl !  I  didn't  think  that  of  Mark !  No,  marm,  I 
didn't.  And  he  is  Fanny's  father?  I'll  be  dumbed!  I'd 
like  to  see  him,  though,  and  Jeff,  too.  Like  fust  rate 
to  see  him  turn  a  summerset  on  the  grass  again.  Give 
'em  my  respects  and  tell  'em  to  come  home  and  bring 
that  girl  if  they  want  to.  Ridgefield  air  and  Dot  will 
soon  bring  her  round.  She  must  be  a  clipper  to  spring 
at  a  robber  like  that.  No  wonder  she's  got  heart  dis 
ease.  It  makes  mine  wobble  round  to  think  of  it." 

Uncle  Zach  had  his  remarks  mostly  to  himself,  as  Roy 
was  talking  excitedly  to  his  father  and  mother  of  the 
journey  he  was  going  to  take  at  once. 

"Fanny  needs  me,  and  I  am  going,"  he  said,  and  he 
started  that  night,  and  several  days  later  reached  Clark's 
very  hot,  very  tired,  very  dusty,  and  very  impatient  to 
see  Fanny.  "You  say  she  is  still  in  the  mountains.  How 
long  does  it  take  to  get  there?"  he  asked  Mrs.  Pres'.ott, 
whom  he  had  surprised  as  she  was  taking  her  lunch  in 
her  room. 

She  was  very  glad  to  see  him,  for  she  was  getting  tired 


344  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

of  waiting  for  Fanny  and  anxious  as  to  what  the  result 
of  the  waiting  might  be.  She  was  not  hard  enough  to 
hope  Inez  would  die,  but  could  not  help  thinking  that  if 
she  did  one  possible  annoyance  would  be  removed,  and 
this  thought  was  in  her  mind  when  Roy  came  suddenly 
upon  her,  overwhelming  her  with  so  many  questions  that 
for  a  few  minutes  she  could  only  listen  without  repiymg. 
When  at  last  she  had  a  chance  she  repeated  all  that  had 
happened  since  she  came  into  the  valley,  dwelling  most 
upon  the  loss  of  her  diamonds  for  which  Roy  did  not 
particularly  care.  He  was  more  interested  in  Fanny. 
Once  or  twice  during  his  rapid  journey  it  had  occurred 
to  him  that  his  newly  found  relatives  might  prove  awk 
ward  appendages  if  Fanny  insisted  upon  having  them 
near  her.  But  he  put  the  feeling  aside  as  unworthy  of 
him. 

"If  she  can  stand  it,  I  can,"  he  thought,  and  began  to 
wonder  what  manner  of  people  his  father-in-law  elect 
and  sister-in-law  might  be. 

Craig  and  Alice  had  both  said  that  Mark  was  a  gen 
tleman  and  Roy  accepted  that  so  far  as  it  went.  He 
might  have  been  a  gentleman  when  they  knew  him,  but 
he  had  passed  through  many  phases  since  and  there  was 
no  guessing  what  he  was  now,  except  that  he  was  Fan 
ny's  father,  and  as  such  must  be  respected.  Mrs.  Pres- 
cott  did  not  help  to  reassure  him  and  in  all  she  said  he 
detected  a  keen  regret  for  what  had  happened,  and  that 
it  was  Inez  who  troubled  her  most.  Mark  would  never 
intrude  himself  upon  her,  but  Fanny  would  insist  upon 
taking  Inez  to  New  York,  if  she  lived,  as  she  probably 
would. 

"And  n  she  does,  oppose  it  with  all  your  strength. 
We  cannot  have  it.  And  bring  Fanny  away  at  once," 


ROY.  345 

she  said  to  Roy,  when  he  left  her  for  his  drive  to  the  cot 
tage. 

The  sun  was  down  when  he  reached  it,  but  there  was 
still  light  enough  for  him  to  see  the  gleam  of  a  white 
dress  upon  the  piazza.  Something  told  him  it  was  Fan 
ny,  and  quickening  his  step  he  soon  had  her  in  his  arms, 
smothering  her  with  kisses,  while  she  cried  for  joy.  He 
did  not  at  first  notice  how  worn  and  pale  she  was,  he 
was  so  glad  to  see  her  and  so  struck  with  her  surround 
ings. 

"By  Jove,  isn't  it  queer  to  find  you  here?  and  how 
white  you  are,"  he  said  at  last.  "This  will  never  do.  I 
must  get  you  away  at  once." 

"Not  while  Inez  lives,"  Fanny  answered,  in  a  tone 
Roy  knew  it  was  useless  to  combat. 

"Is  she  so  very  low?"  he  asked.  "Tell  me  all  about  it. 
You  have  written  a  good  deal,  and  your  mother  told  me 
a  lot,  but  I  want  to  hear  it  from  you.  It's  the  strangest 
thing  I  ever  heard." 

Fanny  told  him  everything  from  the  day  she  first  saw 
Inez  up  to  the  present  time.  When  she  described  the 
hold-up  she  was  very  earnest  and  dramatic,  and  Roy's 
blood  tingled  with  admiration  for  the  heroic  girl  who 
had  braved  a  masked  robber  and  was  perhaps  paying  for 
it  with  her  life.  Two  or  three  times  he  asked  questions 
which  Fanny  thought  irrelevant  to  the  subject,  but  for 
the  most  part  he  listened  quietly  till  she  was  through. 

"You  are  glad  you  have  found  your  father?"  he  said, 
during  a  pause  in  the  conversation. 

"Glad?  Of  course.  Why  shouldn't  I  be?"  Fanny  re 
plied.  "I  once  told  you  I  believed  I  should  find  him.  He 
is  not  like  you,  nor  Judge  Prescott,  nor  anybody  I  ever 
knew,  but  he  is  mine,  and  you  must  like  him." 


346  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

"I  intend  to,"  Roy  said,  "and  now  fire  away  at  Tom. 
What  is  he  like?" 

If  there  was  sarcasm  intended  Fanny  did  not  know 
it,  and  answered  readily,  "He  is  nice,  too, — though  not 
like  father.  I  don't  quite  know  what  I  mean,  only  he  is 
different.  I  am  sorry  for  him.  He  was  to  marry  Inez, 
you  know,  and  now  that  can  never  be,  and  what  I  don't 
understand  is  that  he  seldom  comes  into  her  room,  and 
when  he  does  she  is  sure  to  have  a  chill.  She  used  to 
ask  me  often  where  he  was  and  when  I  said,  'Do  you 
want  to  see  him?'  she'd  say,  'No,  I  only  want  to  know 
if  he  has  gone  out.'  I  told  him  of  it  and  he  said,  a  little 
irritably,  'Tell  her  I'm  always  in  the  house.'  That 
seemed  to  quiet  her.  Strange,  isn't  it?" 

Before  Roy  could  answer,  Fanny  exclaimed,  "There's 
father,"  and  Mark  Hilton  appeared,  looking  surprised 
at  the  sight  of  a  young  man,  with  his  arm  around  his 
daughter. 

"Father,  this  is  Roy, — come  all  the  way  from  Boston," 
Fanny  said,  and  the  two  men  were  soon  shaking  hands 
and  looking  keenly  at  each  other  in  the  moonlight  which 
fell  upon  them. 

Roy  saw  a  tall  man,  with  a  slight  stoop,  who  must 
have  been  handsome  once  and  was  good  looking  still, 
with  something  in  his  language  and  manners  indicative 
of  education  and  a  knowledge  of  good  society.  Mark  saw 
a  boyish  young  fellow,  with  innocence  and  purity  written 
on  his  face,  and  thanked  God  that  Fanny's  choice  had 
fallen  upon  him.  At  first  he  was  a  little  reserved,  for  he 
never  grasped  the  hand  of  an  honest  man  that  he  did 
not  experience  a  twinge  of  shame,  and  this  was  very 
strong  in  the  presence  of  Roy,  who,  as  Craig  Mason's 
son,  was  allied  with  the  past,  and  whose  frank,  honest 
eyes,  were  studying  him  so  closely, 


ROY.  347 

If  Mark  felt  any  trepidation  in  meeting  Roy,  Tom  felt 
it  in  a  greater  degree.  He  guessed  who  the  young  man 
was  on  the  piazza  with  Mark,  for  he  knew  Fanny  had 
written  him  to  come,  and  for  a  minute  he  shook  like  a 
leaf.  Then  steadying  himself  with  the  thought  that  he 
had  nothing  to  fear  from  Roy,  he  went  forward  to  meet 
him  as  he  came  in,  greeting  him  cordially  and  seeming 
wholly  at  his  ease.  When  supper  was  over  the  three 
men  began  chatting  together  as  familiarly  as  if  they  had 
known  each  other  all  their  lives.  Roy  casually  mentioned 
Ridgefield  to  Fanny,  saying  he  had  left  his  father  and 
mother  there,  and  both  Mark  and  Tom  began  to  ply 
him  with  questions  concerning  the  town  and  Uncle 
Zacheus  and  Dotty. 

"You  know  we  lived  there  years  ago  and  are  interested 
in  the  place,"  Mark  said,  and  Roy  told  them  all  he  knew, 
and  then  at  the  first  opportunity  plunged  into  the  subject 
uppermost  in  his  mind — the  robbers  and  the  hold  up  on 
the  road. 

This  was  something  of  which  neither  Mark  nor  Tom 
cared  to  talk.  But  they  could  not  help  themselves.  No 
matter  how  adroitly  they  tried  to  turn  it  aside  Roy 
brough  it  up  again,  with  all  the  eagerness  of  youth,  to 
whom  such  things  are  interesting. 

"I  wonder  the  robbers  have  never  been  caught,"  he 
said.  "We  do  things  better  in  Boston.  Why  don't  you 
get  a  detective  from  the  east?  There's  Converse, — near 
ly  equal  to  "Sherlock  Holmes.  He  only  needs  the  slight 
est  clew, — sometimes  a  w^ord,  a  look, — to  follow  to  the 
end.  He'd  unearth  them  quick.  I  believe  I  could  run 
them  down  myself,  give  me  time." 

"Why  don't  you  try  and  get  the  reward?  It  is  a  big 
one,"  Fanny  asked.  "People  think  they  live  here." 


THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

"Here !"  Roy  repeated,  glancing  around  the  room,  as 
if  in  quest  of  a  robber  in  some  of  the  shadowy  corners. 

"Not  in  this  house,  you  stupid,"  Fanny  said,  laugh 
ingly,  "but  in  the  neighborhood, — among  the  moun 
tains, — and  that  we  possibly  meet  them  every  day.  The 
very  idea  gives  me  the  shivers,  and  I  never  see  a  strange 
man  that  I  do  not  think,  perhaps  you  are  one  of  them. 
It  would  be  dreadful  if  I  had  ever  been  near  them,  or 
spoken  to  them." 

"Is  there  nothing  in  their  appearnce  to  mark  them?" 
Roy  asked,  and  Fanny  replied,  "Nothing  but  their  size. 
One  is  very  tall ;  that  is  Long  John.  The  other  is  short; 
they  call  him  Little  Dick.  He  attacked  us.  You  know  I 
told  you  that  before." 

There  was  a  lamp  in  the  room  and  Tom  and  Mark 
were  sitting  where  its  light  fell  upon  them.  Roy  had 
not  noticed  them  particularly  until  Fanny  spoke  of  the 
size  of  the  robbers.  Happening  then  to  glance  that  way 
he  was  struck  with  the  expression  of  Mark's  face  and  saw 
the  look  which  passed  between  him  and  Tom. 

"By  Jove !"  he  exclaimed,  under  his  breath. 

Then,  as  Fanny  looked  inquiringly  at  him  he  covered 
his  blunder  by  fanning  himself  with  his  hands  and  asking 
if  the  room  were  not  very  hot  and  close. 

"Let's  go  outside,  where  it  is  cooler,"  he  said. 

Fanny  was  glad  to  go  and  Mark  and  Tom  were  glad 
to  have  her  and  be  rid  for  a  while  of  %their  inquisitive 
guest. 

"How  much  longer  could  you  have  stood  that,"  Tom 
asked  Mark,  whose  face  was  bathed  in  perspiration,  and 
who  only  replied,  "I  think  it  is  getting  rather  hot ;"  then 
he  went  out  at  the  rear  door  and  strolled  off  into  the 
woods  with  Nero  for  company,  while  Tom  stood  his 
ground,  deciding  to  make  himself  so  agreeable  to  Roy 


ROY.  349 

that  he  would  forget  the  detective  Converse  and  the  rob 
bers  and  his  intention  to  "run  them  down." 

Meantime  Roy  and  Fanny  were  walking  along  the 
road  in  the  moonlight,  Fanny  supremely  happy  and  try 
ing  to  answer  the  many  questions  Roy  was  putting  to  her 
about  the  hold-up  in  which  she  had  a  part.  She  thought 
she  had  told  him  all  about  it,  but  here  he  was  asking  her 
such  funny  questions ;  "How  did  Inez  look  when  she 
confronted  the  robber?  How  did  the  robber  look?  that 
is,  how  tall  was  he?" 

"Tall  as  I  am?"  he  asked,  and  Fanny  replied,  "Oh,  no; 
he  was  about  as  tall  as  Tom,  and  slimmer.  He  wore  a 
sweater  which  made  him  look  small." 

"How  did  Tom  look  when  he  came  up?"  was  Roy's 
next  question. 

Fanny  couldn't  enlighten  him  much  there.  She  didn'f 
think  of  Tom,  she  was  so  absorbed  with  Inez.  She  knew 
he  picked  up  her  hat,  which  was  frightfully  jammed, 
and  straightened  it,  and  put  it  on  her  head.  Then  she 
spoke  of  her  diamonds,  wondering  how  they  could  have 
gotten  loose  and  if  she  would  ever  find  them. 

"Tom  is  still  hopeful  that  after  a  heavy  rain  they  may 
come  to  light  and  has  promised  to  look  for  them." 

"I  hope  he'll  find  them,"  Roy  said,  and  continued: 
"By  the  way,  what  am  I  to  call  him  and  your  father? 
Do  the  people  know  he  isn't  Tom,  and  that  your  father  is 
not  Mr.  Rayborne?" 

"No,"  Fanny  said.  "Inez  wanted  them  to  stay  as  they 
were,  Mr.  Rayborne  and  Mr.  Hardy.  They  know 
father  was  divorced  and  that  I  am  the  daughter  of  his 
first  marriage  and  took  my  stepfather's  name  at  his  re 
quest;  that  is  all  they  know,  and  they  wouldn't  care,  if 
they  knew  the  whole.  I  think  divorces  are  wrong,  but 


350  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

they  are  common,  and  a  lot  of  people  left  their  real 
names  east  when  they  came  here." 

"Queer  set  Fanny  has  fallen  among.  I  wonder  what 
father  would  say,"  Roy  thought,  as  they  walked  back 
to  the  house,  where  only  Tom  was  waiting  to  say  good 
night. 

Alone  in  his  room  Roy  thought  over  all  he  had  heard 
and  seen  and  drew  his  own  conclusions. 

"I  may  be  wrong,"  he  said.  "I  hope  I  am.  Mr.  Ray- 
borne  does  not  look  like  a  highwayman.  Fanny's  fath 
er,  too.  It  can't  be,  but  I  don't  quite  like  Tom's  face, 
it  is  too  cunning  and  that  look  he  gave  Mr.  Rayborne 
meant  something.  I  wish  Converse  was  here.  No,  I 
don't.  There's  Fanny !  It  would  kill  her,  as  it  is  killing 
Inez,  if  I  am  correct  in  my  surmise.  I'll  get  her  away 
from  here  as  soon  as  I  can,  but  while  she  stays  /  stay 
and  watch !  There  will  be  a  kind  of  excitement  about 
it." 

For  one  so  young  Roy  was  a  shrewd  observer  and  was 
seldom  wrong  in  his  estimation  of  people.  He  was  fond 
of  detective  stories,  and  often  thought  how  he  would 
act  in  such  and  such  circumstances.  A  suspicion,  of  which 
he  did  not  like  to  think,  had  fastened  itself  upon  his  mind, 
and  in  trying  to  combat  it  he  at  last  fell  asleep. 

The  next  morning,  when  he  met  Mark  and  Tom  by 
daylight,  they  both  looked  better  to  him  and  were  so 
genial  and  gentlemanly  and  kind  that  he  mentally  asked 
pardon  for  having  harbored  an  evil  thought  against  them. 
Tom  was  particularly  friendly  and  proposed  a  drive 
through  the  valley,  as  the  day  was  fine.  To  this  Roy  ac 
ceded  readily,  saying  he  would  be  ready  as  soon  as  he 
had  seen  Inez.  At  the  mention  of  her  name  Tom's  face 
grew  so  sad  that  Roy  said  to  him,  "Fanny  has  told  me  of 


ROY.  351 

your  engagement  to  her  and  I  sincerely  hope  Inez  will 
live  to  keep  it." 

"Never,"  Tom  answered,  and  turned  away,  while  Roy 
followed  Fanny  up  to  Inez's  room. 

Inez  had  passed  a  fairly  good  night,  and  was  very  anx 
ious  to  see  Roy.  Fanny  had  brushed  her  hair  and  put  on 
her  one  of  her  own  pink  and  white  dressing  jackets, 
which  brought  out  the  beauty  of  her  face,  notwithstand 
ing  her  hollow  eyes  and  sunken  cheeks. 

"She  looks  like  a  picture,"  Fanny  thought,  as  she  led 
Roy  to  the  side  of  the  bed. 

No  introduction  was  needed  and  none  was  given. 
Inez's  hand  was  lifted  slowly  to  Roy,  who  took  and  held 
it  in  both  his  own.  He  knew  the  great  black  eyes, 
which  looked  blacker  from  contrast  with  the  pallor  of 
her  face,  were  studying  him  closely,  but  he  had  nothing 
to  conceal  and  met  her  scrutiny  unflinchingly. 

"Roy,"  she  said.  "I  am  so  glad  for  Fanny  that  you  are 
her  Roy,  and  glad  you  are  here." 

He  could  not  say  he  was  altogether  glad  to  be  there 
except  to  be  with  Fanny,  but  he  told  her  how  sorry  he 
was  to  find  her  so  ill  and  that  he  hoped  she  would  soon 
be  better.  He  knew  they  were  idle  words,  for  death  was 
written  on  every  lineament  of  her  face,  but  he  must  say 
something.  Inez  shook  her  head,  but  did  not  reply,  and 
Roy,  thinking  to  please  and  interest  her,  said,  "I  am 
going  to  drive  with  Mr.  Hardy,  who  has  kindly  offerer! 
to  show  me  the  beauties  of  the  valley." 

At  the  mention  of  Tom  Inez  closed  her  eyes  as  if  to 
shut  out  a  painful  sight. 

"Tired  ?  Ar'n't  you  ?"  Fanny  said,  motioning  Roy  to 
leave,  which  he  did,  willingly. 

Sick  rooms  were  not  to  his  taste ;  he  was  happier  with 
Tom,  who  proved  a  most  agreeable  companion,  and 


352  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

talked  so  well  and  so  intelligently  on  every  subject  and 
seemed  imbued  with  so  good  principles  that  Roy  men 
tally  asked  pardon  again  for  having  distrusted  him.  Of 
the  hold-ups  Tom  did  not  like  to  talk,  and  said  so. 

"The  last  was  fraught  with  so  much  disaster  to  Inez 
that  I  never  think  of  it  without  a  shudder,"  he  said,  while 
of  the  first,  in  which  he  had  been  the  hero,  he  made  light, 
saying  people  had  magnified  what  he  did,  and  praised 
him  too  much.  "I  don't  believe  it  was  courage.  I  was 
mad,"  he  said,  "and  flew  at  the  man  without  thinking 
what  the  consequence  might  be  to  me.  I  hope  we  are 
done  with  the  rascals  and  tourists  can  hereafter  visit  the- 
valley  in  peace." 

Then  he  began  to  talk  of  the  east  and  of  Ridgefield 
and  to  relate  anecdotes  of  his  boyhood  and  his  experience 
with  Uncle  Zach  and  Dotty.  Mark,  too,  came  in  for  a 
share  in  the  conversation.  And  here  Tom  was  very  elo 
quent. 

"Seeing  him  now,  broken  with  hard  work  and  crushed 
with  anxiety  for  Inez,  you  can  have  no  idea  of  the  grand 
man  he  was  when  he  lived  in  Ridgefield.  Everybody  re 
spected  him,  and  under  right  influences  he  would  have 
staid  what  he  was.  No  man  will  stand  being  nagged 
continually  and  twitted  with  his  birth  and  poverty.  I 
beg  your  pardon,"  he  added,  as  he  saw  Roy  scowl,  and 
remembered  that  he  had  been  making  insinuations 
against  his  mother-in-law  elect;  "I  mean  no  disrespect 
to  Mrs.  Prescott.  She  was  proud  and  beautiful,  and 
greatly  admired,  and  not  always  on  the  square.  Her 
daughter  is  not  at  all  like  her." 

"I  should  think  not,"  Roy  answered,  dryly,  and  then 
Tom  spoke  of  Roy's  mother  and  the  good  she  had  done 
him  as  a  boy. 

"If  I  had  followed  her  advice  I  should  have  been  a  bet- 


ROY.  353 

ter  man,  but  what  is  done  is  done  and  cannot  be  changed. 
Do  you  believe  a  bad  man  can  become  a  thoroughly  good 
one  ?" 

The  question  startled  Roy,  who  felt  unequal  to  meet 
it,  but  who  answered  with  a  gravity  beyond  his  years, 
"It  depends  upon  what  he  has  done.  If  reparation  can 
be  made  he  should  make  it,  and — .  Yes,  it  seems  to  me  a 
bad  man  may  become  a  good  one.  Of  course  the  mem 
ory  of  the  bad  would  always  cling  to  him,  making  him 
sorry  for  the  past  and  most  sorry  when  the  world  was 
praising  him." 

Roy  had  no  idea  how  his  words  were  stinging  Tom, 
who  answered  quickly,  "That's  just  it.  Memory !  If 
we  could  kill  that ;  but  we  can't.  Hell  must  be  made  up 
of  memories." 

Again  the  suspicion  of  the  previous  night  began  to 
creep  into  Roy's  mind,  but  he  cast  it  aside,  while  Tom 
roused  himself  from  his  melancholy  mood  and  began  to 
point  out  the  lights  and  shadows  on  the  mountains  and 
asked  if  Roy  would  like  to  try  a  trail  on  the  morrow. 
Nothing  could  suit  Roy  better,  and  for  the  next  two  or 
three  days  Tom  went  with  him  from  mountain  to  moun 
tain  and  was  as  gay  as  if  no  harrowing  memory  were  in 
truding  itself  upon  his  mind.  At  last  Roy  suggested  that 
they  go  to  the  scene  of  the  last  hold-up  and  look  again 
for  the  missing  diamonds.  At  first  Tom  hesitated.  That 
spot  was  like  a  haunted  spot  to  him,  but  there  was  no 
good  reason  for  refusing,  and  they  set  off  together  for 
the  scene  of  the  attempted  robbery.  Once  there  Tom 
grew  very  communicative,  rehearsing  the  proceedings 
even  more  dramatically  than  Fanny  had  done  when  de 
scribing  them  to  Roy.  Here  was  the  stage.  Here  the 
robber  stood  waiting  for  it,  and  commanding  the  driver 
to  halt  and  the  passengers  to  hold  up  their  hands.  Here 


354  'rHE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

Inez  sat  and  sprang  over  the  wheel  with  a  shriek  which 
must  have  frightened  the  brigand  quite  as  much  as  the 
revolver  which  proved  not  to  be  loaded,  and  here  she  lay 
fainting  with  her  head  in  Fanny's  lap  when  all  was  over." 

"Were  you  here  through  it  all?  I  thought  you  came 
later,"  Roy  said,  and  Tom,  who  saw  he  had  made  a  mis 
take,  colored  and  stammered,  "Sounds  as  if  I  was  here, 
don't  it?  You  know,  I  happened  along  after  the  rascal 
had  left,  and  a  more  frightened  lot  of  people  you  never 
saw.  I  have  heard  Inez  describe  the  scene  so  graphically 
that  I  feel  as  if  I  were  a  part  of  it." 

"I  do  believe  yau  were,"  Roy  thought. 

"Where  was  Fanny's  hat  when  you  picked  it  up?  We 
will  look  for  the  diamonds  there,  first,"  he  said. 

Tom's  face  was  flushed,  but  his  manner  was  composed 
and  natural  as  he  pointed  out  the  spot  where  he  had  res 
cued  the  crushed  hat  from  the  mud.  The  grass  was  grow 
ing  there  now,  and  there  was  not  a  spot  within  a  radius 
of  many  yards  where  the  diamonds  could  have  dropped 
and  lain  hidden. 

"Some  one  of  the  crowd  must  have  taken  them,"  Roy 
said,  with  conviction,  when  they  ended  their  search  and 
sat  down  upon  a  fallen  tree  to  rest.  "Yes,  somebody  took 
them  here,  and  I  will  not  leave  California  till  I  know 
who  the  thief  is.  I  believe  I'll  send  for  Converse.  I  sup 
pose  he  could  visit  the  valley  like  any  ordinary  person, 
and  keep  his  eyes  open.  The  diamonds  were  to  have 
been  Fanny's  on  her  wedding  day." 

"And  when  is  that  to  be  ?"  Tom  asked. 

Roy  was  not  sure,  but  some  time  between  Christmas 
and  New  Years. 

"I  hope  she  will  have  them  by  that  time,"  Tom  said, 
throwing  down  the  stick  with  which  he  had  been  poking 


ROY.  355 

in  the  grass  and  bushes,  and  going  back  to  the  buggy 
preparatory  to  returning  home. 

It  was  rather  a  silent  drive,  for  they  were  both  tired 
and  a  shadow  had  come  over  both,  distrust  on  Roy's  side, 
and  on  Tom's  a  dread  of  what  the  hot-headed  young  man 
might  do.  It  was  the  second  time  he  had  mentioned 
Converse,  the  Boston  detective,  and  Tom  felt  that  his  sin 
might  be  finding  him  out,  and  saw  no  escape  from  it  ex 
cept  by  suicide,  of  which  he  had  thought  more  than  once, 
but  had  always  put  the  tempter  behind  him,  with  a  vehe 
mence  which  kept  him  at  bay.  His  Ridgefield  training 
Had  not  wholly  lost  its  effect,  nor  the  advice  Alice  Tracy 
had  given  him  when  she  gathered  lilies  with  him  on  the 
river  or  tramped  through  the  woods  to  visit  the  hornet's 
nest  and  the  turtle  bed  in  the  pond.  Those  days  were 
very  vivid  to  him  now  with  Alice's  son  beside  him  and  a 
look  like  her  in  his  face  and  blue  eyes.  He  liked  the 
boy,  as  he  designated  him,  and  was  still  a  little  afraid 
of  him  or  what  he  might  do.  Roy,  on  his  part,  was 
thinking,  "A  first-rate  fellow  whom  I  can't  help  liking, 
any  more  than  I  can  help  putting  things  together,  but  if 
he  is  bad  so  is  Mr.  Hilton,  and  on  Fanny's  account  I'd 
better  keep  quiet." 

In  this  state  of  mind  they  reached  the  cottage  where 
they  found  Fanny  waiting  for  them  on  the  piazza,  greatly 
excited  and  alarmed. 

"Inez  is  much  worse."  she  said,  "and  wants  to  see 
Roy  alone." 


356  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

AT   THE   LAST, 

INEZ  had  been  better  that  morning  and  had  asked  to  sit 
in  her  chair  near  the  window  where  she  could  look  out 
upon  the  mountains  and  the  valley.  Fanny  was  brushing 
her  hair  and  talking  to  her,  when  she  asked,  as  she  often 
did,  "Where  is  Tom?" 

"Gone  to  drive  with  Roy,"  Fanny  said.  "I  believe  they 
were  going  as  far  as  the  scene  of  the  hold-up.  Rov  is 
anxious  to  see  the  place,  and  look  for  my  diamonds. 
But  it  is  of  no  use.  If  Tom  can't  find  them,  he  can't." 

"The  diamonds?  What  diamonds?"  Inez  asked 
quickly. 

Fanny  had  been  warned  not  to  talk  to  Inez  of  the  hold 
up.  Consequently,  with  the  exception  of  the  day  when 
the  watch  came,  she  had  never  mentioned  it  until  now 
when  she  spoke  of  it  in  connection  with  her  diamonds. 
It  was  of  no  use  for  her  to  try  and  waive  the  subject. 
Inez  could  not  be  put  off,  and  she  finally  explained  that 
when  she  reached  Clark's  the  diamonds  were  missing. 
The  stitches  in  the  ribbon  bow  of  her  hat  had  been 
broken  and  the  linen  bag  had  slipped  out  somewhere  on 
the  road. 

"I  have  given  them  up,"  she  said,  "and  now  only  care 
to  have  the  robbers  caught.  Roy  talks  of  sending  for  a 
famous  detective  from  Boston,  but  I  hardly  think  he  will. 
He  is  a  rash  boy  any  way  and  would  like  nothing  better 
than  such  an  adventure  as  we  had." 

As  she  talked  Fanny  was  admiring  the  gloss  and  tex 
ture  of  Inez's  hair,  and  wondering  how  it  would  look 


AT   THE   LAST.  357 

twisted  on  the  top  of  her  head  after  the  fashion  then, 
beginning  to  prevail. 

"I  am  going  to  do  your  hair  in  the  latest  style,  if  it 
will  not  tire  yon  too  much,"  she  said,  going  for  some  hair 
pins. 

There  was  no  answer  and  when  she  came  back  with 
the  pins  she  saw  that  Inez's  head  was  turned  to  one  side 
and  lay  motionless  against  the  chair.  She  had  not 
heard  of  the  loss  of  the  diamonds  until  now,  when  in  an 
instant  she  saw  the  whole  scene  again,  and  knew  where 
the  diamonds  were.  The  thought  of  the  detective  Roy 
was  to  send  for  added  to  her  excitement.  Tom  was  worse 
than  she  had  supposed  him  to  be,  but  she  could  not  have 
him  arrested.  His  downfall  would  implicate  her  father 
and  Fanny  would  be  involved  in  the  disgrace.  All  this 
went  rapidly  through  her  mind  until  unconsciousness 
came  and  she  knew  no  more  until  she  was  in  bed,  with 
her  father  and  Fanny  and  the  nurse  bending  over  her 
with  restoratives. 

''Was  she  excited  in  any  way  ?"  Mr.  Hilton  asked,  and 
Fanny  replied,  "I  think  not.  I  was  brushing  her  hair  and 
telling  her  that  Roy  had  gone  with  Mr.  Hardy  to  look 
for  the  diamonds.  I  had  forgotten  that  she  didn't  know 
they  were  lost.  It  might  have  been  that,  but  I  think  it 
was  the  fatigue  of  sitting  up  too  long." 

Mr.  Hilton  made  no  reply,  but  he  knew  what  caused  the 
faint  which  lasted  so  long  and  left  Inez  with  no  power 
to  move  except  her  head  and  one  hand  which  from  the 
wrist  beat  the  air  constantly.  It  was  still  moving  feebly 
up  and  down,  when  Roy  went  to  her  ?nd  asked  what 
he  could  do  for  her.  Fanny  had  come  up  with  him  and 
with  a  motion  of  her  head  Inez  dismissed  her ;  then  said 
in  a  whisper,  with  long,  painful  breaths  between  each 
word,  "Don't  try  to  find  the  robbers,  nor  send  for  a  de- 


358  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

tective.  I  shall  be  gone,  but  Fanny  will  be  here.  Don't 
do  it  for  her  sake.  My  father  is  her  father.  She  will 
have  the  diamonds  back." 

Roy  looked  surprised.  His  talk  of  a  detective  had  been 
mostly  talk,  and  he  told  Inez  so,  assuring  her  that  no 
thing  should  ever  be  done  which  could  hurt  Fanny,  or 
compromise  her  father  or  Tom.  She  knew  he  under 
stood  -her  and  that  she  was  giving  away  those  whom  she 
loved  better  than  her  life,  but  she  was  giving  them  to 
Roy,  who  loved  Fanny. 

"Thanks,"  she  said  faintly.  "You  will  keep  what  I 
have  said  to  yourself,  and  never  let  Fanny,  nor  any  one, 
know.  I  can  trust  you?" 

"To  the  death,"  he  answered,  taking  her  shaking  hand, 
which  was  as  cold  as  if  the  shadow  stealing  into  the  room 
had  touched  that  first  and  turned  it  into  ice. 

"I  knew  Tom  was  a  rascal  all  the  time,  and  Mr.  Hilton, 
too,  but  my  word  is  pledged  and  I  shall  keep  it.  Think 
of  Fanny  here  in  a  den  of  robbers.  It  can't  be  long, 
though.  The  poor  girl  is  about  done  for,"  Roy  thought, 
as  he  tried  to  soothe  and  quiet  Inez. 

"Go  now,  and  send  Tom,"  she  said  at  last,  and,  glad 
to  escape,  Roy  went  quickly  down  the  stairs  and  de 
livered  the  message  to  Tom. 

It  was  the  first  time  she  had  asked  for  him,  and  he  felt 
much  as  a  criminal  feels  when  going  to  execution.  He 
had  no  idea  what  she  wanted  and  was  rather  relieved 
when  she  said  to  him,  "Do  you  love  me  still?" 

"More  than  I  can  tell  you.  Oh,  Inez,  I  am  so  sorry  for 
it  all,  and  have  nothing  to  offer  in  excuse,"  he  replied, 
bending  over  her  until  his  face  touched  the  hand  which 
was  still  moving  very  slowly,  and  whose  fingers  stirred 
his  hair  as  they  moved. 

"Don't  try  to  excuse,  or  explain"  she  said.    "Bury  the 


At  THE   LASto 

the  past  in  my  grave,  and  begin  a  new  life.    Make  resti 
tution  as  far  as  possible.    Give  Fanny  her  diamonds !" 

Tom  started  violently.  "How  did  you  know  she  lost 
them?"  he  asked,  and  Inez  replied,  "I  do  know,  and  it 
has  put  out  the  little  flickering  flame  there  was  left  of  my 
life.  Get  them  to  her  somehow." 

"I  have  intended  to  do  this  all  the  time,  and  I  assure 
you  she  shall  have  them,"  Tom  said. 

"And  the  others,"  she  continued;  "If  you  know  who 
they  are  and  where  they  are,  send  them  what  belongs  to 
them,  or  its  equivalent.  You  and  father,  both ;  I  cannot 
talk  to  him.  I  leave  it  with  you." 

She  was  asking  impossibilities  and  Tom  knew  it,  but 
!he  promised  that  so  far  as  he  could  he  would  do  all  she 
wished. 

"Tom,"  she  whispered,  after  a  moment's  silence, 
"Come  closer ;  it  is  hard  for  me  to  talk ;  the  lump  in  my 
throat  chokes  me  so." 

Tom  bent  closer  to  her,  while  she  went  on :  "I  have 
loved  you  so  much  and  thought  you  so  good  and  never 
suspected  the  truth.  Tom,  oh,  Tom,  kiss  me  for  the 
sake  of  what  we  have  been  to  each  other,  and  when  1 
am  gone,  be  the  good  man  I  used  to  think  you  were. 
Stay  with  father  and  take  care  of  him.  He  needs  you. 
Good  bye.  Go  now.  I  am  so  tired." 

In  an  agony  of  remorse  Tom  kissed  the  face  where 
the  moisture  of  death  was  gathering  fast.  Then  he  left 
her,  and  when  he  saw  her  again  she  was  like  a  beautiful 
piece  of  marble,  with  a  smile  on  her  lips  which  told  of 
perfect  peace.  Mark  and  Fanny  watched  by  her  until 
the  great  change  came,  and  the  hand  which  had  beaten 
the  air  constantly  was  stilled  forever,  its  last  stroke  fall 
ing  on  the  head  of  her  father  who  knelt  beside  her.  In 
his  heart  was  anguish  such  as  few  men  have  ever  known. 


360  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

Not  once  had  she  reproached  him.  If  she  had  he  could 
have  borne  better  than  he  could  the  look  in  her  eyes 
and  the  way  she  shrank  from  him  at  times.  Once  when 
Fanny  was  absent  from  the  room  for  a  moment  she  said 
to  him,  "Poor  father,  I  know  you  are  sorry,  and  I  have 
loved  you  through  it  all,  but  I  can't  -bear  it.  I  must  die. 
It  is  better  so,  for  things  could  never  be  again  as  they 
have  been.  I  couldn't  be  happy  here,  nor  anywhere.  I 
want  to  go  to  mother  and  to  God.  Stay  with  Tom ;  he 
will  be  kind  to  you.  Don't  go  with  Fanny,  if  she  urges  it, 
— with  her  and  Roy,  I  mean.  You  could  not  go  to  her 
mother." 

She  had  done  what  she  could  for  all  of  them,  and  felt 
that  her  work  was  finished.  For  an  hour  or  more  she 
lay  with  her  eyes  closed  and  with  no  perceptible  motion 
in  her  body  except  the  slow  beating  of  her  fingers,  and 
when  they  stopped  she  was  dead.  When  sure  she  was 
gone  Mark  broke  down  entirely,  while  Fanny  and  Tom 
tried  in  vain  to  quiet  him. 

"Let  me  alone,"  he  said.  "I  must  have  it  out  by  my 
self.  Nothing  can  help  me  but  time." 

Leaving  the  house  he  spent  hours  among  the  hills, 
walking  up  and  down  while  the  rain,  which  had  begun  to 
fall,  beat  upon  him  unnoticed.  He  did  not  think  of  the 
storm,  or  the  darkness,  and  stumbled  over  rocks  and 
bushes  until  benumbed  with  cold  and  wet  with  the  rain 
he  returned  to  the  house,  an  old  man,  so  broken  that  he 
would  never  be  himself  again.  He  let  Tom  and  Roy  and 
Fanny  make  the  arrangements  for  the  funeral,  while  he 
sat  in  the  room  with  Inez,  sometimes  talking  to  her, 
sometimes  to  himself,  and  sometimes  to  Anita,  by  whom 
Inez  was  buried  on  one  of  the  loveliest  mornings  of  the 
late  summer.  There  were  few  visitors  in  the  valley,  but 


AT   THE   LAST.  361 

all  the  people  in  the  sparsely  settled  neighborhood  turned 
out  to  the  funeral,  as  they  had  done  to  her  mother's. 
The  house  was  filled  with  the  flowers  they  brought,  some 
from  the  woods  and  some  from  the  gardens  which  were 
stripped  to  honor  the  dead.  Early  in  the  morning  on  the 
day  of  the  funeral  there  came  from  Stockton  a  box  of 
exquisite  roses  and  a  pillow  of  flowers,  with  Inez's  name 
in  the  centre.  The  moment  she  heard  of  Inez's  death 
Mrs.  Prescott  had  telegraphed  for  the  flowers,  urging 
haste  and  fearing  lest  her  gift  should  not  be  in  time.  As 
the  funeral  did  not  take  place  until  ^he  third  day  after 
Inez's  death,  they  were  in  time,  and  neither  Fanny  nor 
Mark  would  have  had  any  doubt  as  to  the  sender,  if  her 
card,  "Mrs.  Helen  Tracy  Prescott,"  had  not  accompanied 
them. 

"Look,   father,"   Fanny   said.   "See   what   mother  has 
sent." 

She  put  the  roses  upon  the  table  nnd  left;  the  room  lor 
vases  in  which  to  arrange  them.  When  she  returned  one 
was  gone,  but  there  were  so  many  she  did  not  rnss  it, 
or  suspect  that  it  was  between  the  lids  of  the  family  Bible 
which  Mark  had  not  opened  before  since  he  recorded 
Anita's  death.  Helen's  thoughtfulness  had  touched  him 
closely  and  the  rose  he  took  was  for  her  sake  and  the  old 
time  when  he  'had  nearly  ruined  himself  with  the  roses 
bought  for  her  in  Ridgefield.  When  the  short  service" 
was  over  Roy,  who  longed  to  get  away,  suggested  to 
Fanny  that  they  should  leave  that  afternoon,  as  her 
mother  was  anxious  for  her  return.  There  was  no  good 
reason  for  her  staying  longer,  except  to  be  with  her 
father,  who,  putting  his  own  grief  aside,  said  to  her, 
"Much  as  I  want  you  to  stay  I  think  you  should  go  to 
your  mother.  It  was  kind  in  her  to  let  me  have  you  so 


362  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

long.  Tell  her  so,  and  thank  her  for  the  flowers  she  sent 
to  Inez." 

Fanny  would  like  to  have  asked  him  to  come  to  New 
York,  but  she  knew  this  could  not  be.  Her  father  and 
mother  had  separated  themselves  from  each  other,  and 
the  gulf  between  them  could  never  be  recrossed.  But  she 
could  have  him  in  her  own  home,  when  she  had  one,  and 
she  urged  his  coming  to  Boston  and  felt  piqued  that  Roy 
did  not  second  her  invitation.  He  was  busy  strapping 
his  satchel  and  pretended  not  to  hear.  Mark  understood 
perfectly,  and  while  thanking  Fanny  for  her  kindness, 
knew  he  should  never  trouble  Roy,  and  knew,  too,  when 
he  said  good  bye  to  Fanny  that  in  all  human  probability 
he  should  never  see  her  again.  For  hours  after  Tom, 
who  took  Roy  and  Fanny  to  Clark's,  was  gone,  he  lay 
on  Inez's  bed,  wishing  he,  too,  were  dead  and  lying  by 
the  new-made  grave  from  which  a  faint  odor  of  roses 
occasionally  reached  him.  It  was  like  a  breath  of  Helen, 
— a  perfume  from  the  years  of  long  ago,  and  he  could 
have  shrieked  as  he  recalled  those  days,  remembering 
what  he  was  then  and  what  he  was  now.  It  was  dark 
when  Tom  returned,  and  not  finding  Mark  in  the  house 
he  went  to  the  grave  where  he  was  standing  with  folded 
arms  and  his  frame  convulsed  with  sobs. 

"Mark,"  Tom  said,  stretching  his  hand  across  Inez's 
grave,  "Mark,  it  is  we  two  alone  forever." 

"Yes,  we  two  alone  forever,"  Mark  answered,  grasping 
Tom's  hand,  and  holding  fast  to  it  as  a  drowning  man 
holds  to  a  spar.  "Alone  forever,  with  our  secret  to  keep, 
and  here  by  Anita's  grave  and  Inez's,  both  of  whom  I 
killed,  let  us  swear  that  henceforth  we  will  be  honest 
men  and  try  in  some  small  measure  to  redeem  the  past." 

"I  swear  it !  I  promised  Inez  that  whatever  restitu 
tion  could  be  made  we  would  make,"  Tom  said,  and  for 


MARK   AND   TOM.  363 

a  few  moments  the  clasped  hands  were  held  above  the 
grave,  while  the  heads  of  the  two  men  were  bowed  low 
as  if  each  were  ratifying  the  solemn  vow. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

MARK    AND   TOM. 

IT  was  the  morning  of  Fanny's  wedding  day  and  the 
house  in  Madison  Avenue  was  a  scene  of  great  excite 
ment.  Flowers  and  ferns  and  palms,  and  florists  arrang 
ing  them,  were  everywhere.  Presents  were  constantly 
arriving  until  the  room  set  apart  for  them  could  scarcely 
hold  any  more.  Cards  had  been  sent  to  Fanny's  father 
and  Tom,  who  were  in  San  Francisco,  Mark  at  the  Pal 
ace  Hotel  and  Tom  in  a  wholesale  grocery.  A  pretty 
remembrance  had  come  from  each,  with  a  letter  from 
Mark  wishing  his  daughter  every  possible  happiness. 
So  far  as  practicable  Tom's  promise  to  Inez  had  been 
kept.  Only  a  few  of  the  people  robbed  were  known 
to  him  or  Mark  by  name.  To  these  at  intervals  money 
had  been  sent,  which  produced  nearly  as  great  a  sen 
sation  as  the  hold-ups  had  done.  That  the  brigands  had 
reformed  or  left  the  country  was  evident  and  Mark  and 
Tom  oUcn  heard  the  subject  discussed,  but  Mark  never 
joined  in  the  discussion,  or  in  any  other.  He  was  a  silent, 
broken  man,  doing  his  \vork  faithfully,  but  keeping 
apart  by  himself,  with  a  sad,  far-away  look  on  his  face,  as 
if  his  thoughts  were  always  with  the  two  graves  on  the 
mountain  side  of  the  Yosemite. 

Tom,  whose  temperament  was  different,  was  more 
social.  It  was  seldom,  however,  that  anything  called  a 


364  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

smile  to  his  face,  for  he,  too,  was  nearly  always  thinking4 
— not  so  much  of  Inez's  grave  as  of  the  scene  on  the  road 
and  her  face  as  it  looked  at  him  when  bidding  him  go  be 
fore  she  shot  him,  as  she  would  shoot  a  dog.  Just  before 
Christmas  he  asked  leave  of  his  employer  to  go  for  a 
day  to  Salt  Lake  City.  On  his  return  he  said  to  Mark, 
"It  is  all  right.  They  are  on  the  way." 

A  few  days  later,  and  on  the  morning  of  the  wedding 
day,  Fanny  and  Roy  were  sitting  together  behind  a 
forest  of  palms  and  azaleas,  when  the  door  bell  rang  for 
the  twentieth  time  within  an  hour. 

"Another  present,  I'll  bet  you,"  Roy  said.  "We  shall 
have  enough  to  set  up  a  bazaar." 

"I  hope  it  isn't  a  clock.  I  have  four  already,"  Fanny 
rejoined,  going  forward  to  take  the  carefully  sealed  pack 
age  sent  by  express  from  Salt  Lake  City. 

"Salt  Lake  City !"  Fanny  repeated,  examining  the  pack 
age  curiously.  "Do  we  know  anybody  there?  What  do 
you  suppose  it  is  ?" 

Roy  could  not  explain  the  presentiment  he  had  as  to 
-vhat  it  was.  He  had  expected  something  of  the  kind 
long  before  this,  for  he  remembered  that  Inez  had  said, 
"Fanny  will  have  her  diamonds." 

"Open  the  package  and  see  what  it  is,"  he  said. 

The  seals  of  wax  were  broken,  the  box  opened,  and 
Fanny  gave  a  start  of  surprise  as  she  saw  the  linen  bag 
she  had  sewed  with  so  much  care  into  the  ribbons  on  her 
hat. 

"Mother!  Look  here!  The  diamonds!"  she  cried, 
laying  them  one  by  one  on  her  mother's  lap. 

They  were  all  there  and  unharmed  except  as  they  were 
a  little  dim  for  want  of  cleaning. 

"Who  could  have  found  them  and  sent  them  ?"  Fanny 
kept  saying. 


MARK   AND   TOM.  365 

Roy  felt  sure  he  knew,  but  said  nothing,  while  Mrs. 
Prescott  suggested  that  the  person  who  found  them  in 
tended  at  first  to  keep  them, — then,  failing  to  dispose 
of  them,  decided  to  send  them  to  New  York. 

"Yes,  but  how  did  he  know  where  I  lived,  or  that  I  was 
to  be  married  to-day?"  Fanny  asked. 

Roy  tided  over  that  difficulty  by  saying,  "Easy  enough, 
your  mother  advertised  for  them  to  be  sent  here  if  they 
were  found,  and  the  man  or  woman,  whoever  it  is,  hap 
pened  to  forward  them  in  the  nick  of  time.  Providential 
dispensation,  don't  you  see?" 

He  was  decking  Fanny  with  the  jewels  as  he  talked, 
and  she  accepted  his  theory  as  she  accepted  everything 
from  him. 

"I  shall  write  to  father  this  very  day  that  I  have  them. 
He  will  be  so  glad,  and  Tom,  too.  I  dare  say  the  poor 
fellow  has  hunted  over  every  foot  of  ground  between 
that  place  and  Clark's  several  times." 

Roy's  shoulders  always  gave  a  little  shrug  when  Fanny 
talked  in  this  strain,  and  he  now  left  her  while  she  wrote 
a  few  hurried  lines  to  her  father  telling  him  her  diamonds 
had  come  and  asking  if  he  had  any  idea  who  sent  them. 

"I  am  so  happy,"  she  wrote,  "for  in  a  few  hours  I 
shall  be  Roy's  wife.  I  wish  you  could  be  here,  and  Inez. 
Oh,  if  she  were  only  alive  she  would  be  my  maid  of 
honor  and  eclipse  me  with  her  beauty.  Dear  Inez.  It 
makes  me  cry  every  time  I  think  of  her  up  among  the 
mountains  with  the  snow  piled  over  her  grave,  and  I  so 
happy  here  with  Roy.  Think  of  me  to-night  and  bless  me, 
dear  father.  Mother  is  to  give  me  away,  but  I  shall 
fancy  it  is  you.  Good  bye.  Your  loving  daughter,  Fanny 
Hilton,  soon  to  be  Fanny  Mason." 

Mark  read  this  letter  to  Tom,  who  said  after  a  mo- 


366  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

ment,  "She  is  a  splendid  girl.  I  don't  think  she  takes 
after  her  mother." 

"Or  her  father,  either,"  Mark  rejoined. 

"Where  does  she  get  her  lovely  traits  of  character?" 
was  Tom's  next  remark,  and  for  the  first  time  since  Inez 
died  a  smile  broke  over  Mark's  face,  as  he  replied,  "It 
must  be  from  'Tina.  From  all  descriptions  I  have  had  of 
that  unfortunate  lady  Fanny  looks  like  her." 

"I  guess  she  does,"  Tom  said,  then  auded,  "I  am  glad 
the  diamonds  reached  her  safely.  That  chapter  is  closed 
and  a  great  weight  off  my  mind.  I  wonder  if  Inez 
knows  ?" 

"Of  course  she  does,  and  is  glad  as  we  are,"  was  Mark's 
reply,  and  the  diamonds  were  never  mentioned  again  be 
tween  them. 

Mark  was  failing,  and  after  he  knew  the  diamonds  were 
safe  with  Fanny,  he  began  to  go  down  rapidly. 

"I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  broken  on  the  rack  until  every 
joint  was  loosened  and  every  nerve  crushed,"  he  said 
to  Tom.  "There  is  nothing  to  live  for.  Inez  is  dead ;  I 
shall  never  see  Fanny  again,  and  it  is  better  so.  But 
I  do  long  for  the  hills  and  ponds  of  Ridgefield  and  Uncle 
Zach  and  Dotty.  Do  you  think  they'd  be  glad  to  see 
me?  They  don't  know  what  I  am.  Nobody  knows  but 
you  and  me." 

Tom  wasn't  so  sure  about  Roy.  He  believed  that 
young  man  had  his  suspicions,  and  was  equally  sure  he 
would  keep  them  to  himself. 

"I  know  Uncle  Zach  and  Dotty  would  be  glad  to  see 
you,  and  in  the  spring  we  will  go  there,"  he  said  to 
Mark,  who,  buoyed  up  with  this  hope,  counted  the  weeks 
as  they  passed  away,  knowing  the  while  that  his  strength 
was  slipping  from  him  and  leaving  him  so  weak  that  he 
staid  all  day  in  his  room  where  Tom  came  every  night 


MARK    AND   TOM.  367 

to  see  him,  and  Mark,  who  had  forgotten  all  the  blame 
he  had  ever  attributed  to  him,  clung  to  him,  as  if  he  had 
been  his  son. 

"I  shan't  go  to  Ridgefield.  I've  given  that  up,"  he  said 
to  Tom  one  day  in  March.  "It's  the  cottage  now  in  the 
valley  I  want  to  see.  How  soon  do  you  think  we  can 
go  there?" 

Tom  didn't  know,  and  his  face  \vas  very  grave  as  he 
looked  at  his  old  comrade,  who  was  so  surely  dying. 
Spring  came  early  that  year  and  as  soon  as  it  was  at  all 
practicable  Tom  took  Mark  by  easy  stages  to  the  cot 
tage.  He  had  been  there  himself  to  see  that  it  was  made 
ready  for  the  sick  man  and  had  passed  a  most  uncomfort 
able  time.  He  was  neither  a  coward,  nor  superstitious, 
but  during  the  three  days  and  nights  he  spent  alone  in  the 
cottage  he  suffered  what  he  called  the  tortures  of  the 
damned.  He  heard  or  saw  Inez  everywhere.  Saw  her 
flitting  in  and  out  from  room  to  room ;  heard  her  sing 
ing  as  she  used  to  sing  in  her  glad  girlhood,  and  felt 
her  kisses  on  his  cheeks  just  as  he  felt  them  on  the  night 
of  their  betrothal.  They  were  real  kisses  then  which 
made  his  pulse  beat  with  ecstasy ;  they  were  shadowy 
kisses  now,  which  burned  where  they  touched  him,  while 
his  lips  were  purple  with  cold.  Once  he  called  to  her, 
"Inez,  Inez,  do  you  know  I  am  here?" 

Then  in  his  disordered  imagination  he  fancied  he 
heard  again  the  shriek  which  had  curdled  his  blood  when 
she  sprang  over  the  wheel  and  confronted  him. 

"I  am  not  afraid,"  he  said  to  himself,  "but  I  wish 
Mark  was  here,  or  even  Nero.  I  ought  to  have  brought 
the  dog,  although  he  does  not  take  to  me  as  he  used  to 
do.  I  believe  he  knows  something.  Lucky  he  can't 
talk." 

A  week  later  Mark  was  there  in  the  old  familiar  place, 


368  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

where  everything  spoke  to  him  of  Inez.  He  had  no  such 
fancies  as  Tom,  and  took  Inez's  room  for  his  own,  sleep 
ing  in  her  bed,  sitting  in  her  chair  by  the  window  watch 
ing  the  light  of  the  first  summer  days  as  it  crept  over 
the  mountains,  and  knowing  it  was  for  the  last  time. 
Once  he  went  to  the  closet  where  Inez's  dresses  were 
hung,  and  taking  them  down  looked  at  them  with  eyes, 
which  could  not  shed  a  tear.  On  the  one  she  wore  on 
the  day  of  the  hold-up  he  gazed  the  longest.  It  was  the 
last  in  which  he  had  ever  seen  her  and  he  recalled  just 
how  she  looked  in  it  when  he  helped  her  to  a  seat  by 
the  driver  and  remembered  with  a  pang  her  soiled,  crum 
pled  condition  when  she  came  back  with  a  look  on  her 
face  he  would  never  forget.  There  was  a  bit  of  dry  mud 
still  clinging  to  the  skirt  and  he  brushed  it  off  carefully 
and  shook  from  the  dress  every  particle  of  soil  and  dirt 
and  hung  it  away  with  the  other  gowns,  leaving  the 
closet  door  open  so  that  from  his  bed  where  he  lay  a 
good  part  of  the  time  he  could  see  them  and  feel  through 
them  a  nearness  to  Inez. 

Everything  he  could  do  for  him  Tom  did,  and  the  two 
men  lived  alone  through  the  months  of  May  and  June, 
when  the  tourist  season  commenced  and  the  valley  was 
again  full  of  life  and  stir,  and  pilgrimages  were  made 
to  Inez's  grave  as  to  the  grave  of  a  saint.  It  was  cov 
ered  with  flowers  and  some  of  these  Mark  pressed  and 
sent  to  Fanny,  who  wrote  to  him  every  week  and  whose 
letters  helped  to  prolong  his  life.  But  like  Inez,  he  had 
lost  his  grip,  and  early  in  July  he  died  quietly,  like  going 
to  sleep,  and  there  were  three  graves  on  the  hill  behind 
the  cottage. 

Tom  was  alone,  with  only  Nero  for  company.  Since 
the  hold-up  he  had  fancied  that  the  dog  avoided  him. 
He  had  been  much  in  Inez's  room  during  her  illness  and 


MARK  AND  TOM.  369 

constantly  with  Mark  until  he  died.  He  had  stood  by 
Inez's  grave  when  she  was  lowered  into  it  and  had  lain 
by  it  for  days  after  as  if  watching  for  her  reap 
pearance.  And  now  he  and  Tom  stood  by  Mark's  grave, 
the  only  mourners  there,  and  Tom's  hand  rested  on 
Nero's  head  as  if  asking  for  sympathy,  which  the  saga 
cious  animal  gave.  He  seemed  to  know  they  were  alone, 
and  when  the  burial,  which  took  place  at  sunset,  was 
over  and  the  people  gone  and  Tom  sat  in  the  gathering 
twilight  with  his  head  upon  a  table  and  his  hand  hang 
ing  at  his  side,  Nero  crept  to  his  feet,  licking  ms  hand 
and  rubbing  against  him  as  he  had  not  done  in  a  year. 
Then  Tom  cried,  as  he  said,  "Bless  you,  Nero; 
if  you  have  forgiven  me  I  am  not  quite  alone  in  the 
world.  We  will  stick  together,  old  fellow,  but  not  here. 
You  may  like  to  sit  by  their  graves,  wondering  why 
they  don't  come  back,  but  I  can't  endure  it.  I  am  going 
away  and  you  are  going  with  me, — miles  and  miles  away, 
old  chap,  where  it  will  not  be  as  lonesome  as  it  is  here, 
and  where  one  at  least  will  be  glad  to  see  me." 

A  letter  received  by  Mark  from  Fanny  a  few  days  be 
fore  he  died  had  decided  Tom  upon  his  future,  and  three 
weeks  later,  when  a  carriage  full  of  tourists  came  from 
a  hotel  to  see  the  grave  of  the  girl  who  was  always  spok 
en  of  as  "the  heroine  of  the  valley,"  the  cottage  was 
closed  and  Tom  was  gone. 


370  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

IN  RIDGEFIELD. 

FANNY  and  Roy  had  been  married  amid  flowers  and 
music  and  crowds  of  people  and  the  grand  event  chron 
icled  in  the  Boston  and  New  York  papers.  That  the 
bride's  own  father  was  living  was  not  mentioned.  The 
reporters  had  not  gotten  upon  that  item  of  gossip  and 
Helen  did  not  enlighten  them.  Fanny  was  the  only 
daughter  of  Judge  and  Mrs.  Prescott,  and  when  she 
read  one  of  the  lengthy  articles  describing  the  wedding 
and  her  dress  and  her  mother's  dress  and  dwelling 
at  length  upon  the  position  and  wealth  of  the  Tracys  and 
Prescotts  and  Masons  she  rebelled  against  it  almost  as 
hotly  as  years  before  Uncle  Zach  had  rebelled  against 
the  advertisement  her  father  had  written  of  the  Prospect 
House. 

"I  wish  I  had  kept  my  own  name,  or  taken  it  when  I 
knew  who  I  was.  I  am  not  Fanny  Prescott,"  she  said, 
hotly,  while  Roy  rejoined,  "Of  course  not.  You  are 
Fanny  Mason,  my  wife." 

They  went  to  Florida  where  they  spent  the  winter  and 
Roy  grew  brown  as  a  berry  with  being  so  much  on  the 
lakes  and  rivers  and  Fanny  grew  bilious  eating  too  many 
oranges,  and  both  were  perfectly  happy.  Early  in  the 
spring  they  returned  to  Boston,  where  they  staid  with 
Roy's  father  until  June,  when  Fanny  suggested  that,  in 
stead  of  goinig  to  some  fashionable  watering  place, 
they  spend  the  summer  in  Ridgefield.  Her  father  had  sent 
her  a  deed  of  his  Dalton  property,  and  now  that  she 
owned  it  she  began  to  have  an  effction  for  the  old  ruin 
and  wanted  to  see  it,  she  said  to  Roy,  who  answered,  "All 


IN   RIDGEFIELD.  37! 

right.  I'd  rather  go  where  I  can  have  you  to  myself  than 
to  a  hundred  watering  places  where  everybody  will  be 
admiring  the  beautiful  and  accomplished  Mrs.  Roy  Ma 
son  ;  that's  what  the  reporters  would  call  you." 

"Horrid!"  Fanny  said.  "I'm  not  beautiful,  and  I 
haven't  a  single  accomplishment.  I  am  just  Fanny, — 
your  wife,"  and  she  nestled  close  to  him,  with  a  look 
in  her  blue  eyes  which  told  Roy  how  mach  he  was  to 
her. 

They  stopped  at  the  Prospect  Flouse  more  for  the  sake 
of  its  association  with  their  parents  than  for  the  real  com 
fort  there  was  there  now.  The  ruling  spirit,  Dotty,  had 
been  stricken  with  paralysis,  and  was  more  helpless  Ji.m 
Uncle  Zach,  who,  a  martyr  to  rheumatism,  sat  in  his 
wheel  chair  all  day,  unable  to  walk  more  than  a  few  steps 
at  a  time,  with  the  help  of  two  canes.  He  had  received 
cards  to  their  wedding,  and  had  sent  his  regrets  in  a 
long  letter  in  which  he  deplored  the  fact  that  he  could 
not  get  some  good  out  of  his  "swaller-tail,  which  he  wore 
to  Craig's  weddin'  when  he  didn't  or'to  wear  it,  and 
which  was  as  good  as  new."  Mention,  too,  was  made  of 
Dot's  plum-colored  satin,  which  was  now  too  small  for 
her,  especially  the  sleeves.  He  was  glad  they  remem 
bered  him.  An  inrite  was  good  to  stay  home  on,  and  he 
was  their  respectful  and  venerable  friend  to  command. 
Zacheus  Taylor,  Esquire,  and  poor  Dotty's  X  mark, 
"for  she  can't  use  her  hands  to  write  more  than  that." 

Uncle  Zach  had  grown  childishly  weak  with  his  trou 
ble  and  his  years,  and  received  Roy  and  Fanny  with 
floods  of  tears,  lamenting  Dotty's  inability  to  serve  them. 

"I  never  expected  to  see  you  both  agin,  and  when  you 
was  here  together  I  told  Dot  so,"  he  said ;  "but  here  you 
be,  and  I'm  mighty  glad.  I'm  havin'  hard  sleddin'.  Old 
age  ain't  a  pleasant  thing,  with  rheumatiz'  and  paralysis, 


THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

and  maybe  soffnin'  of  the  brain,  and  the  tarvern  all  run 
down, — and  Dotty  played  out." 

The  best  the  house  afforded  was  theirs,  he  said,  and 
he  insisted  upon  their  taking  the  saloon,  as  he  still  called 
the  parlor  Mrs.  Tracy  had  occupied. 

"You'll  be  better  off  there  by  yourselves,"  he  said. 
"The  boarders  ain't  what  they  used  to  be.  The  Tre- 
mont  has  got  the  big  bugs." 

Poor  Dotty  couldn't  talk  much  or  move,  and  Fanny 
spent  hours  with  her,  anticipating  her  wis'hes  by.  her 
looks  and  greatly  smoothing  her  path  to  the  grave.  Roy 
staid  a  good  deal  with  Uncle  Zach,  who  asked  number 
less  questions  about  Mark  and  Jeff. 

"I  wish  they  was  here.  I  want  to  see  'em,  and  so 
does  Dot,  though  she  can't  say  so.  Strange  how  I  miss 
her  talk  and  blowin'  me  when  I  deserved  it.  I'm  like 
a  ship  without  a  captain,  but  my  laigs  trouble  me  the 
most.  Feel  like  sticks  when  I  try  to  walk,  and  Sam 
Baily  don't  push  me  even,  at  all, — jolts  awfully  over  the 
stones.  Yes,  I  wish  they  was  here.  Mabby  they'd  come, 
if  they  knew  how  used  up  Dotty  and  I  be.  Jeff  could 
lift  her  and  wheel  me.  Write  and  tell  'em  I  want  'em." 

Roy  was  not  very  enthusiastic  on  the  subject,  but  he 
made  no  objection  when  Fanny  wrote  what  Uncle  Zach 
had  said  and  added  her  own  entreaties  for  her  father  to 
come. 

"I  don't  suppose  you  will  care  to  see  mother  often," 
she  said,  "but  you  can  see  me.  I  shall  have  a  home  of 
my  own  in  Boston  and  we  are  going  to  build  a  cottage 
near  the  old  ruin, — Roy  and  I, — and  shall  spend  a  part 
of  each  summer  here." 

It  was  two  weeks  before  an  answer  came,  not  in 
Mark's  handwriting,  but  in  Tom's. 

"Oh,   Roy.     Father  is   dead.     Read   what  Tom  has 


IN   RIDGEFIELD.  3/3 

Written.  I  can't,"  Fanny  said,  as  she  glanced  at  the  let 
ter  and  then  passed  it  to  Roy,  who  read:  "Stockton, 
June  —  18 —  Mrs.  Mason,  Dear  Madam: 

"It  is  my  painful  duty  to  inform  you  that  your 
father  is  dead.  He  has  been  failing  ever  since 
Inez  died,  but  did  not  wish  you  to  know  it, 
as  it  might  mar  the  pleasure  of  your  wedding 
trip.  He  was  always  thinking  of  you  and  Inez.  He  was 
very  ill  when  your  last  letter  came,  but  it  pleased  him  to 
know  that  you  wanted  him,  and  Mr.  Taylor,  too.  If  he 
had  lived  and  been  able,  I  think  he  would  have  gone  to 
Ridgefield  and  taken  care  of  the  poor  old  couple.  His 
death  occurred  three  days  after  the  receipt  of  your  letter, 
which  he  kept  under  his  pillow  with  Inez's  watch,  which 
you  are  to  have. 

"I  know  he  died  a  good  man.  I  wish  I  were  half  as 
good.  He  talked  a  great  deal  of  you,  and  once  or  twice 
spoke  of  your  mother.  He  said,  'Tell  Helen  I  am  sorry 
for  any  pain  I  caused  her,  and  that  I  always  think  of  her 
as  she  was  that  summer  at  the  Prospect  House.' 

"We  buried  him  by  the  side  of  Inez  and  Anita,  and 
crowds  attended  his  funeral.  Now,  I  am  alone,  with 
only  Nero  left  of  all  which  once  made  my  life  so  happy." 

Uncle  Zach  shed  floods  of  tears  when  Fanny  read  this 
letter  to  him. 

"Mark  dead  and  lyin'  away  off  there  among  the  moun 
tains  and  the  robbers,"  he  said.  "They  or'to  have  brought 
him  here  and  buried  him  with  his  kin.  I'd  of  given  him 
a  big  monument.  Yes,  marm,  I  would.  I  liked  Mark, 
if  he  did  alter  his  name,  and  I  feel  as  if  I  had  lost  a  son, 
don't  you?" 

He  was  looking  at  Roy,  who  did  not  feel  as  if  bereft 
of  a  son,  and  not  much  as  if  he  had  lost  a  father,  but  he 
was  very  sorry  for  Fanny.  Her  grief  was  genuine.  She 


3^4  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

had  built  many  castles  in  the  future  when  her  father 
would  come  to  her  and  these  were  all  swept  away. 

"Do  you  think  I  should  wear  black?"  she  asked,  "and 
that  father  ought  to  be  brought  east  and  buried  here? 
Inez  and  Anita  must  come  if  he  does." 

Roy  shivered,  as  he  thought  of  the  three  coffins  landed 
at  the  station  and  himself  superintending  their  interment 
in  the  angle  of  the  wall  near  'Tina. 

"No,  darling,"  he  said,  kissing  Fanny's  tear  stained 
face.  "I  do  not  want  you  to  wear  black,  nor  is  it  neces 
sary,  and  it  is  much  better  for  your  father  and  Inez  to 
be  among  the  hills  of  the  Yosemite  where  they  lived 
than  to  be  brought  here.  Sometime  we  will  go  and  see 
the  graves  and  I  will  have  a  suitable  monument  erected 
to  their  memory. 

"By  their  loving  daughter  and  sister,"  Fanny  rejoined, 
drying  the  tears  which  were  like  April  showers,  she  was 
so  sunny  and  sweet. 

Tom's  letter  was  sent  to  Helen,  who  was  about  start 
ing  for  Narragansett  Pier  with  a  party  of  friends.  Just 
how  it  affected  her  it  was  hard  to  tell.  She  gave  up  the 
trip  to  Narragansett,  saying  she  was  not  feeling  well  and 
preferred  to  remain  at  home.  If  she  cried,  no  one  saw 
her.  If  she  were  sorry,  no  one  knew  it.  She  was  too 
proud  to  show  her  real  feelings,  or  talk  of  a  past  which 
was  buried,  but  her  eyes  were  very  heavy  and  her  face 
very  pale  as  she  sat  behind  the  closed  blinds  of  her  house, 
at  home  to  no  one,  and  supposed  by  most  of  her  friends 
to  be  out  of  town,  as  she  usually  was  at  that  season. 
Fanny  urged  her  coming  to  Ridgefield,  and  she  replied, 
"Not  yet.  It  would  bring  back  a  past  I  wish  to  forget. 
Your  father  is  dead,  and  I  have  no  hard  feeling  towards 
him.  We  were  both  in  fault.  I  was  self  willed,  and 
thought  because  I  had  money  I  must  not  be  crossed. 


IN  RIDGEFIELD.  375 

He  was  a  man  who  could  not  yield  quietly  to  be  gov 
erned  in  every  particular  by  a  woman.  But  let  that  pass. 
I  am  glad  you  knew  him  and  glad  you  revere  his 
memory. 

This  was  quite  a  concession  for  Helen,  and  showed 
that  much  of  her  proud  spirit  was  broken.  When  she 
heard  how  fast  Mrs.  Taylor  was  failing  as  the  summer 
wore  on  she  sent  her  little  notes  of  remembrance,  with 
boxes  of  flowers  and  delicacies  of  various  kinds.  These 
pleased  Uncle  Zach,  but  it  was  difficult  to  know  whether 
his  wife  realized  the  attention.  She  always  seemed  glad 
when  Fanny  was  with  her,  but  nothing  brought  so  happy 
a  look  to  her  face  as  the  appearance  of  Uncle  Zach  in 
his  wheel  chair,  and  her  eyes  rested  constantly  upon  him 
when  he  was  with  her,  but  she  couldn't  speak  to  him  or 
return  the  pressure  of  his  hand  when  he  laid  it  on  hers. 

"She  can't  do  nothin'  she  wants  to/'  Uncle  Zach  said 
pathetically.  "I'd  like  to  kiss  her,  but  I  can't  stand 
alone  and  should  tumble  on  to  her,  if  I  tried." 

"I'll  help  you,"  Fanny  said,  and  passing  her  arms 
around  him  she  held  him,  while  he  bent  down  and  kissed 
the  old  wife  whose  quivering  lips  returned  the  kiss  and 
tried  so  hard  to  speak. 

That  night  she  died,  and  no  young  husband  ever  made 
a  bitterer  moan  for  his  bride  of  a  few  months  than  did 
Zacheus  over  his  Dotty.  "The  greatest  woman  in  the 
world  for  runnin'  a  tarvern  and  keepin'  a  feller  straight," 
he  said  amidst  his  tears,  which  fell  continually,  sleeping 
or  waking.  He  did  not  think  of  her  as  old  and  wrinkled 
and  grey  haired,  but  as  she  had  been  in  their  early  mar 
ried  life,  when  she  was  slight  and  fair,  with'  long  curls  in 
her  neck  and  around  her  face.  "The  prettiest  girl  in  town 
as  she  is  now  the  most  remarkable  woman.  I  shall  get 
along  somehow,  I  s'pose,"  he  said  to  Fanny,  "but  it  is 


376  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

very  dark  with  Dotty  gone,  and  Mark,  too,  and  Jeff,  and 
Johnny  in  the  cemetry  goin'  on  sixty  year.  If  he  had 
lived  he  might  have  had  boys  to  stay  with  me.  As  'tis, 
I  am  all  alone.  It  isn't  pleasant  to  be  old  and  helpless 
and  all  alone  and  cold  as  I  am  most  of  the  time  with 
this  pesky  rheumatis'." 

To  this  Fanny  could  offer  no  consolation.  She  couldn't 
stay  with  him  always,  nor  could  she  take  him  with  her 
when  she  left  Ridgefield.  He  was  indeed  alone  in  his 
old  age,  dependent  upon  hired  help,  who  might  not  al 
ways  be  kind  to  him.  And  this  he  seemed  to  feel  nearly 
as  much  as  Dotty's  death. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 
DOTTY'S  FUNERAL. 

"ALONE  and  cold,  with  no  one  to  care  for  me,"  was 
Uncle  Zach's  constant  lament,  as  he  sat  shivering  by 
Dotty's  coffin  during  the  days  which  preceeded  her  fu 
neral. 

Craig  and  Alice  were  both  with  him  and  this  was  some 
comfort,  while  the  flowers  sent  in  great  profusion  made 
him  feel,  he  said,  as  if  he  was  somebody,  and  he  wished 
Dotty  knew.  Greatly  to  Fanny's  surprise  and  delight 
her  mother  came  in  the  morning  train,  and  the  honor  of 
having  her  there  with  Craig  and  Alice  partly  compen 
sated  Mr.  Taylor  for  his  loss.  It  was  the  first  time  Helen 
had  been  in  Ridgefield  since  she  left  it  twenty-four  years 
ago,  and  naturally  her  presence  aroused  much  interest 
and  curiosity  in  those  who  remembered  her.  When  she 
heard  of  Mrs.  Taylor's  death  a  sudden  impulse  seized  her 
to  go  to  the  funeral.  Almost  anything  was  better  than 


DOTTY'S  FUNERAL.  377 

staying  at  home  alone  as  she  was  doing.  If  Roy  built 
that  cottage  she  must  of  course  go  there  some  time,  and 
she  might  as  well  make  this  her  opportunity.  Sp  she 
went  and  in  her  crape,  still  worn  for  Judge  Prescott, 
she  looked  grand  and  handsome  and  dignified,  and  cried 
a  little  over  Dotty  and  more  over  Uncle  Zach  in  his 
wheel  chair.  He  persisted  in  calling  her  Miss  Hilton 
and  talking  to  her  of  Mark,  until  Alice  suggested  to  him 
that  it  might  be  better  to  give  her  her  real  name  and 
to  say  nothing  of  *Mark,  as  it  could  only  bring  up  un 
pleasant  memories. 

"Jess  so, — jess  so.  Yes,  marm.  You  are  right,  and 
it  shows  how  I  am  missin'  Dotty  to  tell  me  what  is  what," 
Uncle  Zach  replied. 

After  that  he  laid  great  stress  on  Miss  Prescott  when 
he  spoke  to  her,  as  she  was  brushing  his  hair  and  arrang 
ing  his  necktie  for  the  funeral.  She  had  asked  to  do 
this  for  him  and  as  he  felt  her  fingers  on  his  forehead 
and  about  his  neck,  he  burst  out  suddenly,  "It  brings  it 
all  back,  when  you  was  a  young  gal  makin'  the  house 
so  bright.  You  ain't  a  widder,  nor  Miss  Prescott  to  me, 
and  I  won't  call  you  so." 

"Call  me  Helen,  please.  I  feel  more  like  her  here  than 
I  have  in  years,"  she  replied. 

She  was  very  kind  to  him  and  arranged  that  he  should 
go  to  the  grave  in  the  carriage  with  Roy  and  Fanny  and 
herself.  "The  very  best  and  easiest  there  is  in  town," 
she  said  to  the  undertaker. 

"But,  but,"  Uncle  Zach  interposed,  "I  could  no  more 
git  into  a  kerridge  than  I  could  fly.  I  must  be  wheeled. 
Dot  won't  mind.  She  knows  how  stiff  I  am." 

It  was  in  vain  that  they  urged  upon  him  that  he  could 
be  lifted  into  a  carriage.  He  insisted  that  he  couldn't. 

"If  I  go  at  all,  it  must  be  in  my  chair,  with  Sam  to 


378  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

push  me,"  he  said,  and  that  settled  it,  and  his  chair  was 
wheeled  into  its  place  in  the  long  procession  which  fol 
lowed  Dotty  to  the  grave. 

It  took  some  time  to  get  all  the  carriages  into  line  and 
ready,  and  while  they  were  waiting  a  stranger  came  rap 
idly  across  the  s.treet  and  joined  the  crowd  in  front  of 
the  Prospect  House.  He  was  dusty  and  travel  stained 
and  no  one  recognized  him  but  Roy  and  Fanny,  who, 
with  Helen,  were  in  the  carriage  next  to  Uncle  Zach's 
chair. 

"Oh,  Roy, — there's  Tom !''  Fanny  cried,  as  he  passed 
them  without  looking  up,  so  intent  was  he  upon  the 
forlorn  old  man  sitting  alone  with  his  attendant  behind 
him. 

"If  you  please,  this  is  my  place,"  he  said  in  a  low  tone 
to  Sam,  waving  him  aside  so  peremptorily  that  Sam 
had  nothing  to  do  .but  submit,  which  he  did  willingly, 
wondering  who  the  stranger  was  and  why  he  was  so 
anxious  for  a  job  he  did  not  fancy. 

Uncle  Zacn  was  rather  hard  of  hearing,  and  in  the  con 
fusion  of  starting  did  not  hear  Sam's  instructions,  "Go 
easy  over  the  stones ;  he's  awful  lame." 

Tom  nodded  that  he  understood,  and  the  funeral  cor 
tege  started. 

"Careful,  now,  Sam.  There's  a  rut  full  of  stones!" 
Uncle  Zach  said  once,  surprised  at  the  deftness  and  ease 
with  which  the  supposed  Sam  avoided  the  stones,  almost 
lifting  the  chair  over  the  worst  of  them,  and  showing  a 
thoughtfulness  he  had  never  shown  before.  "It's  because 
it's  Dotty's  funeral,  he's  so  keerful,"  Uncle  Zach  thought, 
resolving  to  give  him  something  extra  when  he  paid  him 
his  next  month's  wages.  "Get  me  as  close  to  the  grave 
as  you  can.  I  want  to  see  her  up  to  the  last  minute," 
he  said,  when  they  were  in  the  cemetery. 


DOTTY'S  FUNERAL.  379 

Without  a  word  Jeff  wheeled  the  chair  as  near  the 
grave  as  possible,  every  one  making  way  for  him  and  all 
wondering  who  he  could  be,  except  Roy  and  Fanny. 
Once  during  the  committal  he  looked  at  them  and  in  re 
sponse  to  their  greeting  touched  his  hand  to  his  uncov 
ered  head  with  a  motion  so  natural  that  Alice,  who  was 
watching  him,  started  with  a  conviction  that  she  had  seen 
him  before,  and  when  the  next  moment  their  eyes  met 
and  he  smiled  upon  her  she  was  sure  that  it  was  the 
boy  Jeff.  She  could  not  speak  to  him  then  and  when  the 
ceremony  was  over  and  the  people  began  to  disperse 
there  was  a  new  diversion  in  the  scene  in  the  shape  of  a 
huge  dog  who  came  bounding  over  the  grass  and  leap 
ing  upon  Jeff  nearly  knocked  him  down.  It  was  Nero 
escaped  from  the  freight  house  at  the  station  where  his 
master  had  left  him  for  a  time  in  charge  of  a  boy.  Jeff's 
longing  to  see  Ridgefield  had  grown  in  intensity  until 
at  last  without  any  warning  of  his  coming,  he  started 
east  with  his  dog  and  travelled  night  and  day  until  Ridge- 
field  was  reached.  Hearing  in  the  car  of  the  funeral  and 
fearing  Nero  might  be  in  the  way  he  had  him  shut  up 
and  went  rapidly  up  the  street  he  remembered  so  well 
to  the  Prospect  House,  reaching  it  in  time  to  take  Sam's 
place  and  wheel  Uncle  Zacheus  to  the  cemetery.  After 
many  fruitless  efforts  to  escape  by  the  door  Nero 
squeezed  through  a  half  open  window  and  following  his 
master's  trail  came  upon  him  in  the  graveyard  and  in  his 
joy  at  finding  him  caused  a  lurch  to  the  chair  which 
elicited  a  groan  from  Uncle  Zach. 

"Oh,  Sam,  are  you  in  a  hole,  or  what?  You've  nearly 
broke  my  back,"  he  said;  "and  whose  great  dog  is  that 
cantering  'round  as  if  he  was  goin'  to  jump  on  me.  Go 
'way,  doggie,  doggie ;  go  'way.  Shoo !  Shoo !  Take 
him  off !"  he  continued,  as  Nero  showed  signs  of  making 


380  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

his  acquaintance,  or  at  least  finding  out  what  manner  of 
being  it  was  wrapped  in  a  shawl  and  looking  so  small 
and  helpless. 

Jeff  did  not  reply  till  he  got  the  chair  away  from  the 
grave  to  a  side  path  where  they  were  comparatively 
alone. 

"Where  be  you  takin'  me?  I  or'to  go  back  with  the 
procession.  Folks'll  think  it  queer,"  Uncle  Zach  said, 
as  he  found  himself  at  some  distance  from  the  main  road 
of  the  cemetery. 

Stepping  in  front  of  him  Jeff  took  off  his  hat  and  said, 
"Don't  you  know  me?" 

Uncle  Zach's  sight  was  dim  and  his  eyes  weak  with 
the  tears  he  had  shed,  but  something  in  Jeff's  voice  and 
manner  seemed  natural.  He,  however,  had  no  suspicion 
of  the  truth,  and  replied,  "I  or'to  know  you,  of  course, 
but  I'm  kind  of  blind,  and  my  spe'tacles  is  at  home. 
Who  be  you,  and  where  is  Sam?" 

"If  I  were  to  turn  a  somerset  or  two,  and  stand  on 
my  head,  do  you  think  you  would  know  me  then?"  Jeff 
asked,  with  his  old  merry  laugh. 

The  effect  was  wonderful.  Uncle  Zach  had  not  risen 
alone  from  his  chair  in  months,  but  he  sprang  up  now 
and  stood  firm  upon  his  feet,  with  his  arms  outstretched. 

"Jeff!  Jeff!  my  boy!"  he  cried,  "It's  you,  yourself, 
come  back  to  me !  Thank  God !" 

He  could  say  no  more,  and  sank  back  in  his  chair, 
shaking  like  a  leaf,  while  Jeff  said  to  him,  "Yes,  it's  Jeff, 
come  back,  and  sorry  to  find  Mrs.  Taylor  dead,  and  you 
so  helpless.  Shall  I  take  you  home?" 

"Yes,  sir.  Yes,  sir.  I'm  all  of  a  tremble,  and  so  glad 
you've  come,  and  so  would  Dotty  be,  if  she  knew," 
Uncle  Zach  replied;  "and  this  is  your  critter?"  motioning 


DOTTY'S  FUNERAL.  381 

towards  Nero,  who,  with  sundry  sharp  woofs,  was  sig 
nifying  his  approval  of  affairs. 

"Yes,  this  is  Nero.  He  belonged  to  Mark,  and  I  could 
not  leave  him  in  the  mountains  alone.  He  is  a  friendly, 
faithful  fellow,  and  will  guard  you,  or  your  property, 
with  his  life,"  Jeff  said,  caressing  the  dog,  in  whose  eyes 
there  was  a  human  look  as  if  he  understood  what  was 
being  said.  , 

As  a  rule  Mr.  Taylor  did  not  care  much  for  dogs. 
Dotty  had  disliked  them,  and  would  never  have  one  on 
the  premises.  They  tracked  her  clean  piazza,  and  floor 
and  trampled  down  her  flower  bed's,  she  said.  But  Dotty 
was  gone.  Nero  had  belonged  to  Mark,  and  when  he 
put  his  nose  on  Zacheus's  knee  anl  looked  up  in  his 
face,  the  old  man's  heart  was  won  and  Nero  adopted  with 
Jeff. 

"Doggie,  doggie,  Mark's  doggie,  you  are  welcome," 
he  said,  patting  Nero  whose  bushy  tail  was  in  full  swing 
and  who,  with  the  sagacity  of  his  race,  had  seen  that 
Uncle  Zach  needed  care  and  had  constituted  himself  his 
body  guard. 

Meanwhile  Craig  and  Alice,  and  Helen  and  Roy  and 
Fanny  had  been  watching  the  scene  at  a  distance.  They 
were  yet  to  be  met  and  it  was  hard  meeting  them  all. 
Jeff  had  seen  Helen  at  Clark's  when  he  took  Fanny 
and  Roy  there  after  Inez's  funeral.  She  had  been  rather 
reserved  towards  him  then  and  said  very  little,  but  now 
her  manner  changed,  and  she  was  the  first  to  go  forward 
and  meet  him  as  he  came  near  to  them.  Inez  was  dead 
and  he  could  never  claim  any  connection  with  Fanny. 
He  would  stay  with  Uncle  Zach  as  his  proper  place,  and 
she  was  very  cordial  in  her  greeting.  Alice  and  Craig 
came  next,  the  former  doing  most  of  the  talking  and  both 
seeming  so  pleased  to  see  him  that  he  felt  his  spirits 


382  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

rising  and  had  not  been  as  happy  in  years  as  he  was 
when  at  last  he  stood  again  in  the  house  where  he  had 
spent  his  boyhood. 

Roy  was  cordial,  but  could  not  forget  Inez's  dying 
words,  which  had  betrayed  so  much,  and  every  time  he 
looked  at  Jeff  he  recalled  the  scene  of  the  hold  up  which 
he  had  heard  described  so  vividly  that  he  sometimes  felt 
that  he  had  been  an  actor  in  it.  Fanny  was  unfeignedly 
glad  to  see  Jeff  and  kept  him  by  her  a  long  time  while 
she  questioned  him  of  her  father's  sickness  and  death 
and  burial.  Helen,  who  sat  near,  made  no  comments, 
but  she  did  not  lose  a  word,  and  occasionally,  when 
Fanny  cried  the  hardest,  her  bit  of  linen  and  lace  which 
passed  for  a  handkerchief,  went  up  to  her  eyes  and  came 
away  with  several  wet  spots  upon  it.  With  his  friends 
around  him,  treating  him  as  if  he  had  always  been  an 
honest  man,  Jeff  began  to  feel  like  one.  He  was  glad 
Alice  did  not  refer  to  the  pick-pocket  business,  for  he 
could  not  tell  her  that  he  had  kept  his  promise  to  the 
letter.  He  had  followed  no  one  on  the  street,  or  in  a 
crowd,  but  he  could  recall  pockets  in  which  his  hands 
had  been  while  the  owners  were  pale  as  death  and 
almost  as  still.  That  was  buried  in  the  Yosemite  and 
here  in  Ridgefield,  where  every  one  was  pleased  to  see 
him,  the  dreadful  past  was  slipping  away  from  him,  and 
with  a  rebound  his  old  life  was  returning.  Nero,  too, 
came  in  for  a  share  of  notice  and  petting.  Craig,  who 
was  fond  of  dogs,  offered  to  buy  him,  but  Jeff  said,  "No, 
he  is  the  only  relative  I  have  left  in  the  world.  I  have 
brought  him  from  beyond  the  Rockies  and  if  Mr.  Taylor 
does  not  object,  I  shall  keep  him." 

"Object  to  the  critter!  Of  course  not.  He  was 
Mark's,  and  Dotty  isn't  here  to  care  about  his  feet.  They 
are  pretty  big.  Shoo,  shoo,  doggie;  not  quite  so  friend- 


ODDS   AND   ENDS.  383 

ly,"  Uncle  Zach  replied,  shaking  his  fingers  at  the  dog, 
who  had  taken  a  great  fancy  to  him  and  persisted  in 
laying  his  head  in  his  lap  and  occasionally  putting  his 
paws  on  the  wheel  of  his  chair. 

The  next  day  Craig  and  Alice  and  Helen  went  home, 
but  Roy  and  Fanny  staid  on  to  see  to  the  new  cottage. 
The  ground  for  it  had  been  broken  a  little  distance  from 
the  old  ruin,  "but  not  so  far  away  that  'Tina  can't  come 
across  the  grass  to  visit  us  if  she  wants  to,"  Roy  said 
to  Fanny,  who  had  no  fear  of  'Tina  so  long  as  Roy  was 
with  her.  They  staid  in  Ridgefield  the  rest  of  the  sum 
mer  with  an  occasional  trip  to  New  York,  where  Helen 
kept  herself  secluded  until  it  was  time  for  the  fashion 
able  world  to  come  home  and  open  their  doors.  Then 
she  gradually  made  her  way  again  into  the  society  which 
she  enjoyed.  Sometime  in  September  Roy  and  Fanny 
returned  to  Boston,  leaving  the  cottage  so  nearly  com 
pleted  that  it  would  be  ready  for  them  in  June  of  the  next 
summer,  if  they  wished  to  occupy  it  so  early. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

ODDS  AND  ENDS. 

Six  years  later  and  it  is  summer  again  in  Ridgefield. 
Uncle  Zach  has  celebrated  his  ninetieth  birthday,  and 
except  for  his  lameness  is  nearly  as  hale  and  hearty  as 
he  was  when  he  first  welcomed  the  Masons  and  the 
Tracys  to  his  home.  Jeff's  presence  has  worked  won 
ders  in  him  and  in  the  house  as  well.  In  a  quiet  way  he 
assumed  the  role  of  master  while  nominally  acting  under 
Mr.  Taylor's  orders.  The  servants,  who  had  become  lax 
and  worthless,  have  been  dismissed,  and  others  more 


384  THE   TRACY   DIAMONDS. 

competent  hired  in  their  place.  The  house  has  been 
thoroughly  renovated  and  refurnished.  Many  of  the 
former  boarders,  who  had  gone  to  the  Tremont,  have 
come  back,  and  a  few  people  from  Boston  spend  the 
summers  there. 

"If  Dot  was  only  here,  and  I  had  my  laigs  it  would 
seem  like  old  times,"  Uncle  Zach  often  says  to  Jeff,  who 
is  his  right  hand  and  left  hand  and  feet  and  brains. 

If  kindness  to  an  old  man  can  atone  for  the  past  Jeff 
is  atoning  for  it.  He  puts  his  master  to  bed  at  night  as 
if  he  were  a  child  and  dresses  him  in  the  morning.  Every 
pleasant  day  he  takes  him  for  what  he  calls  a  drive 
through  the  town,  stopping  wherever  the  querulous  old 
man  wishes  to  stop  and  wheeling  him  "so  carefully  that 
his  rheumatic  limbs  seldom  receive  a  jolt.  Nero  is 
always  in  attendance  and  is  as  much  a  part  of  the  turnout 
as  Jeff  himself.  Uncle  Zach  no  longer  shoos  him  when 
he  puts  his  head  on  his  knees,  but  he  sometimes  has 
pricks  of  conscience  as  to  what  Dotty  would  say  if  she 
could  see  the  big  dog  stretched  on  the  floor  of  the  piazza. 
or  wherever  he  choses  to  lie.  Dotty's  habits  are  deferred 
to  by  both  Uncle  Zach  and  Jeff,  except  the  quarterly 
house  cleanings.  At  these  Jeff  has  drawn  the  line.  Twice 
a  year  was  sufficient,  he  said,  for  any  house,  and  Uncle 
Zach  agreed  with  him.  Every  three  months,  however, 
a  dress  coat  and  vest  and  little  yellow  blanket  are  brought 
out  to  air,  the  blanket  so  tender  with  age  that  Jeff 
scarcely  dares  touch  it.  "Johnny's  blanket,"  Uncle  Zach 
always  says,  with  a  tone  very  different  from  that  in  which 
he  speaks  of  his  swallow  tail. 

"Fool  and  his  money  soon  parted,"  he  said  when  tell 
ing  Jeff  what  it  had  cost.  "I  never  wore  it  but  once  and 
never  shall  again.  The  missionaries  don't  want  it,  nor 
the  heathen.  If  you  had  any  use  for  it  I'd  give  it  to  you. 


ODDS  AND  ENDS.  38$ 

It  seems  a  pity  for  it  to  lay  there  year  in  and  year  out 
smellin'  like  fury  with  that  moth  stuff  you  put  in  it." 

Jeff  laughed  and  thanked  him  as  he  folded  up  the 
garments  and  laid  them  away  with  Taylor's  Tavern  in 
the  hair  trunk.  Once  he  brought  the  sign  down  for 
Uncle  Zach  to  see. 

"I  can't  git  up  them  stairs  and  I'd  like  to  look  at  it 
agin,"  he  said,  and  when  Jeff  brought  it  and  stood  it 
before  him  tears  ran  down  his  cheeks  like  rain.  "It 
makes  me  think  of  the  time  when  I  was  young,  and 
Dotty,  too.  The  lalocks  in  the  garden  was  blowin'  and 
the  apple  trees  was  blossomin'  the  day  it  was  sot  up. 
I  can  smell  the  lalocks  yet,  though  the  bush  has  been 
dead  many  a  year  just  as  Dotty  is.  Take  it  away,  Jeff, 
and  you  needn't  bring  it  agin.  I'm  done  with  Taylor's 
Tarvern,  and  with  everything  else  but  you !" 

Jeff  took  it  back  and  felt  the  moisture  in  his  own 
eyes  at  his  master's  reminiscences  of  a  past  which  could 
never  return.  To  the  villagers  Jeff  was  very  reticent 
with  regard  to  his  western  life.  Of  his  change  of  name 
he  made  light.  It  was  a  fashion  with  some  of  the  miners 
and  he  foolishly  followed  it,  he  said,  but  of  what  befel 
Tom  Hardy  he  said  very  little.  He  was,  however,  pay 
ing  so  heavy  a  penalty  for  his  misdeeds  that  he  sometimes 
felt  as  if  he  must  hide  where  no  one  had  ever  heard  of 
him  in  connection  with  Long  John  and  Little  Dick. 
Fanny  had  told  of  the  hold  up  of  which  he  had  been  the 
hero,  and  of  the  other  where  he  had  been  an  actor,  and 
it  seemed  to  him  people  would  never  stop  ques 
tioning  him  as  to  the  most  minute  details.  If  he  re 
peated  the  story  once  in  the  office  he  repeated  it  a  hun 
dred  times  to  a  breathless  audience  which  never  grew 
tired  of  listening  and  were  always  ready  to  hear  it  again. 

"And  they  never  got  a  clew  to  them,  you  say  ?" 


386  THE   TRACY 


"Never,"  was  the  question  and  answer,  with  which  the 
evening  usually  closed,  the  people  dispersing  to  their 
rooms  or  homes,  while  Jeff  rushed  out  into  the  night 
overwhelmed  with  remorse. 

"I  believe  State's  Prison  would  be  better  than  this," 
he  sometimes  thought  when  Uncle  Zacheus  had  him  on 
the  rack.  „ 

He  was  inexorable  and  made  Jeff  tell  the  story  over 
and  over  again  until  he  ought  to  have  known  it  by  heart. 
Once  when  he  was  out  for  his  airing  he  asked,  speaking 
of  the  robbers,  "Be  they  gone,  root  and  branch  ?" 

"Yes,  root  and  branch.  Neither  Long  John  nor  Little 
Dick  have  been  seen  since  Inez  died,"  Jeff  replied. 

It  was  not  often  that  he  spoke  of  Inez,  and  now  at  the 
mention  of  her  name  Uncle  Zach  rejoined,  "Poor  girl, 
and  you  was  to  have  married  her.  I  am  sorry  for  you. 
And  she  was  Miss  Mason's  sister  and  Mark  was  her 
father.  Mark  was  a  likely  chap.  I've  nothing  agin  him 
except  that  he  run  away  and  let  'em  think  he  was  dead 
and  changed  his  name.  I  s'pose  he  put  you  up  to  change 
yours,  too." 

"No,  he  didn't,"  Jeff  answered  quickly.  "It  was  right 
the  other  way.  I  put  him  up  to  every  bad  thing  he 
ever  did." 

Jeff  was  a  little  heated  in  his  defense  of  Mark  and 
pushed  the  chair  over  a  rough  place  with  less  care  than 
usual. 

"Soffly,  soffly,  Jeff.  My  bones  is  older  than  they  was 
once,"  Uncle  Zach  said. 

This  recalled  Jeff  to  himself,  and  the  rest  of  the  jour 
ney  was  made  with  comparative  comfort  to  the  old  man's 
bones.  They  were  on  their  way  to  the  Queen  Anne 
cottage  which  had  been  built  near  the  site  of  the  old 
ruin  and  between  it  and  the  road.  It  was  a  very  pretty 


ODDS  AND  ENDS  387 

and  artistic  affair,  with  bay  windows  and  projections  and 
wide  halls  and  piazza,  where  Roy  said  Tina  could  sit  and 
rest  if  she  wanted  to,  when  she  made  her  nocturnal  visits. 
The  cellar  was  rilled  up  and  made  into  a  terrace,  or 
plateau,  which  was  ablaze  with  flowers  from  June  to 
September.  A  part  of  the  orchard  had  been  cut  down 
and  with  the  lane  converted  into  a  small  park  of  green 
sward,  flowering  shrubs  and  shade  trees.  Here  Roy  and 
Fanny  spent  a  part  of  every  summer  and  were  often 
joined  by  Craig  and  Alice,  and  occasionally  by  Helen, 
whose  beauty  was  not  greatly  marred  by  the  lapse  of 
years  and  who  was  sometimes  told  that  she  looked 
nearly  as  young  as  her  daughter.  She  was  a  grand 
mother  now  and  two  children  played  on  the  grass  and 
picked  flowers  from  the  spot  where  Tina  once  had  lived 
and  loved  and  sinned.  They  were  a  sturdy  boy  of  five 
years  old  and  a  little  girl  of  three.  The  only  real  dis 
agreement  Fanny  and  Roy  ever  had  was  on  the  subject 
of  the  boy's  name.  Fanny  wished  to  call  him  Mark 
Hilton,  while  Helen  favored  the  idea.  Roy  could  not 
tell  Fanny  that  his  son  must  not  be  named  for  one  who 
he  believed  had  been  a  highwayman,  but  he  objected  to 
the  name  and  held  his  ground  against  Fanny's  entreaties 
and  the  advice  of  Craig  and  Alice. 

"Perhaps  as  you  won't  call  him  for  my  father  you'd 
like  to  call  him  for  yours,"  Fanny  said,  with  as  much 
spirit  as  she  ever  opposed  to  Roy. 

"No,"  he  answered,  "not  for  my  father  either,  but  I'll 
tell  you  what  we'll  do.  We'll  call  him  for  your  adopted 
father,  Walter  Prescott.  How  will  that  suit  you  ?" 

"Not  as  well  as  Mark  Hilton,"  Fanny  replied,  but  she 
gave  up  the  point  and  the  boy  was  christened  Walter 
Prescott. 

When  two  years  later  a  girl  was  born  there  was  no 


388  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

question  as  to  her  name  from  the  moment  Roy  said  to 
Fanny,  "Would  you  like  to  see  our  little  daughter 
Inez?" 

They  were  bright,  active  children  and  Jeff  was  their 
slave.  They  were  never  happier  than  When  with  him, 
and  always  hailed  with  delight  the  sight  of  the  wheel 
chair  coming  down  the  road,  for  that  meant  a  ride  after 
Uncle  Zach  was  safely  deposited  upon  the  piazza,  with 
their  father  and  mother. 

On  the  morning  when  Jeff  came  near  upsetting  the 
chair  in  his  defense  of  Mark  they  were  on  the  look-out 
for  him.  They  had  come  from  Boston  the  night  before 
and  were  watching  eagerly  for  their  horse,  as  they  called 
him,  while  Nero  was  a  colt.  Craig  and  Alice  were  there 
and  with  Roy  and  Fanny  were  enjoying  the  freshness 
and  fragrance  of  the  June  morning. 

"There  they  come ;  there's  Jeff  and  Nero,"  Walter 
cried,  running  to  meet  him,  and  "Dere's  Deff  and  Nero," 
Inez  repeated,  toddling  after  her  brother. 

Both  Fanny  and  Roy  hurried  to  meet  Uncle  Zach, 
who  was  soon  helped  to  a  seat  on  the  piazza,  and  his 
chair  was  at  liberty  and  at  once  appropriated  by  the 
children. 

"Wliere  shall  we  go?"  Jeff  asked,  and  Walter  answered, 
"To  the  woods." 

He  always  wanted  to  go  there,  hoping  to  find  a  bum 
ble-bee's  nest,  if  not  the  hornet's  his  grandmother  had 
told  him  about.  Inez  was  satisfied  to  go  anywhere  with 
Jeff,  whose  face  always  brightened  at  sight  of  her  and 
then  grew  sad  as  he  remembered  another  Inez  in  her 
mountain  grave.  They  found  the  spot  where  a  hornet's 
nest  had  been,  and  saw  a  rabbit  steal  cautiously  out  from 
her  hole  and  then  in  again  as  Nero  started  for  her.  They 
picked  some  wild  flowers  and  ferns  and  then  Inez  grew 


ODDS  AND   ENDS.  389 

tired  of  walking  about  and  wanted  Jeff  to  sit  down  and 
take  her.  When,  as  a  baby  of  a  year  old,  Inez  had  first 
held  up  her  arms  to  him,  he  had  shrunk  from  her  with 
a  feeling  that  he  was  unworthy  to  touch  her.  Roy,  who 
was  present,  had  something  of  the  same  feeling,  for  he 
never  saw  Jeff  without  a  thought  of  the  hold  up.  But 
the  child's  persistence  had  conquered  his  prejudice  and 
subjugated  Jeff,  who  loved  the  little  girl  better  than  any 
living  being.  Indeed,  there  was  no  one  else  for  him  to 
love.  He  respected  Uncle  Zacheus  and  admired  Fanny 
and  reverenced  Alice  as  one  of  the  noblest  of  women, 
but  his  affection  was  given  to  the  baby  Inez. 

"Taky  me ;  Fse  tired,"  she  kept  saying  in  the  woods 
until  he  sat  down  upon  a  log  and  took  her  in  his  lap. 

"Now,  tell  us  a  story  about  Aunt  Inez  and  the  rob 
bers,"  Walter  said,  coming  up  with  the  dog,  who 
stretched  himself  at  Jeff's  feet  while  Walter  lay  down  at 
his  side. 

The  previous  summer  Jeff  had  told  Walter  of  his  home 
among  the  mountains  and  his  life  there  with  the  other 
Inez,  and  his  grandfather  and  Xero,  and  once  Walter  had 
heard  his  mother  tell  some  one  of  the  hold  up  and  the 
robber,  and  boy-like  this  pleased  him  more  than  the 
cottage  and  the  mountains.  He  had  made  Jeff  tell  him 
about  it  two  or  three  times  the  year  before  and  now  in 
sisted  that  he  should  tell  it  again,  and  begin  where  his 
Aunt  Inez  jumped  over  the  wheel  and  Nero  ran  after  the 
robber.  Very  unwillingly  Jeff  told  the  story,  adapting 
it  to  Walter,  who  listened  intently  and  did  not  allow 
him  to  omit  any  part  of  it  which  he  knew. 

"I  wish  I'd  been  there  with  mamma.  Where  was  I?" 
he  asked. 

Jeff   did   not   know,   and   with   his   respect   for   Jeff's 


390  THE  TRACY  DIAMONDS. 

knowledge  considerably  lessened,  he  continued,  "I'd  have 
shot  the  robber." 

Inez,  whose  arms  were  about  Jeff's  neck  and  who  gen 
erally  said  what  Walter  did,  replied,  "I'd  sot  the  yobber," 
and  her  arms  tightened  their  hold,  giving  Jeff  a  feeling 
of  suffocation  and  helping  to  smother  the  groan  he  could 
not  entirely  repress. 

"Now,  tell  about  Aunt  Inez  and  where  she  lived," 
Walter  said,  and  Jeff  told  him  of  the  grand  mountains 
and  the  waterfalls  in  the  beautiful  valley  far  away  and 
the  grave  among  the  hills  where  his  Aunt  Inez  was 
buried. 

"Was  she  as  pretty  as  mamma?"  Walter  asked,  and 
Jeff  replied,  "/  think  she  was  prettier." 

"I  don't  believe  it.  Do  you,  Nero  ?"  Walter  said,  with 
a  kick  of  his  foot  against  the  side  of  the  dog,  who  an 
swered  by  springing  up  and  hurrying  after  the  rabbit 
which  had  ventured  from  its  hole  a  second  time. 

Walter  followed  the  dog,  and  Jeff  was  left  alone  with 
Inez,  who  whispered  drowsily,  "Tell  more  of  the  bufiful 
valley  far  away." 

Then  she  fell  asleep,  and  bending  over  her  Jeff  whis 
pered,  "Oh,  God,  in  this  world  my  sin  will  always  follow 
and  torture  me,  but  grant  that  in  the  next  I  may  be  pure 
and  innocent  as  this  child." 

Something  roused  the  little  girl  and  opening  her  eyes, 
so  like  the  eyes  Jeff  remembered  so  well,  she  lisped,  "Ess, 
he  will." 

Then  she  fell  asleep  again,  and  with  a  feeling  that  he 
had  received  a  benediction,  Jeff,  who  had  never  kissed 
her  before,  kissed  her  now  for  the  sake  of  the  dead  Inez, 
whose  grave  was  in  the  beautiful  valley  far  away. 

THE   END. 


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